Twists and Turns
by wolffan200
Summary: A Demon Hunter in 1880's London faces his greatest enemies; a group of vampires with a history written in blood who want the city for themselves. His journey will span more than a century of blood and suffering, but it will also lead him to a girl.
1. Beginnings

**Beginnings**

_London 1880_

_September_

"Where is he?" Hobbs asked, impatiently checking his pocket watch for the fifteenth time.

"He'll be here, don't worry. You know he's one of our best. Three of the blighters would hardly give him too much trouble," Gray answered from his position slouched in a chair reading his paper, his feet resting atop a grimy crate upon which sat a bottle and an empty glass.

"So why is it taking so damned long? He's reckless, that's what he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he's managed to get the poor boy killed tonight." Hobbs began pacing back and forth in front of the crate, occasionally glancing at the solid wood doors of the stable.

Gray looked up at the rafters, amused and frustrated by his colleague's behavior. It was bad enough that they were hiding out in a run-down stable overpowered by the smell of horses, more specifically horse-dung, without him bringing up the jittery young lad they'd been told to train in the field. Tonight was the boy's first taste of the hunt. Gray highly doubted he'd see his second, although for less pessimistic reasons than Hobbs. If you asked him, the lad wasn't cut from hunter cloth. He should stay cooped up indoors with the books, like the good little Watcher he should be.

"The boy will be fine. He'll be quaking in his well-turned boots no doubt, but fine. Will won't see him harmed. The whelp will be running off to file a report, and we'll have seen the back of him at last."

Hobbs ceased his pacing long enough to refill the glass with what little was left in the bottle of Scotch that Gray had brought along and took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Gray watched him, amused, then went back to reading his paper.

"Blast that infernal Council. Why is it that we remain in their employ? Ah, yes, the funding. I'd forgotten. I don't see why we have to raise these useless young bucks for them though. We're supposed to be hunting monsters, not training newborns. The majority of the lads don't make it past their first outing in the field before they're running back to the safety of a desk. That's if they haven't been killed."

Gray didn't bother responding. He was more than used to hearing his partner rant about their employers. Still, if it weren't for the Council, they'd be finding their next meal a lot harder to come by. Hunters didn't enjoy the luxury of a fat coin purse. Well, most of them anyway.

"You never know. There is the rare occasion that the Council might send us someone useful— a lump of coal amongst the flash diamonds the Council spews out," he said at last, dragging Hobbs' attention away from the door and his pacing again.

"An extremely rare occurrence. And our _piece of coal_ is not exactly reliable though, is he? Case in point," Hobbs said, gesturing at the doors, which just at that moment swung open.

Both men looked up, Gray planting his feet on the floor and leaning forward to inspect the two men who entered. Well, one man who had practically fallen through the door and tripped over his own feet in his haste to make it as far inside the shelter as he could and one man who strode in purposefully and slammed the doors closed behind him.

"So how did it go?" Gray asked, taking in their torn and dirt-stained clothes.

The young Council lad had suffered a scratch on his arm, which he was moaning about as though near death. The calmer of the two had a deep gash on his chest and his leg appeared to be burned slightly, the clothing around the wound scorched and sticking to his skin. He walked steadily and took a seat on a stool near the crate, opening Hobbs' satchel.

"We have a problem," the man replied, as he rooted around inside the satchel for bandages.

"A problem!" the frightened boy exclaimed, before releasing a hysterical chuckle. "I'll say we have a bloody problem! Three fledglings, that's what we were supposed to be after. Those were not fledglings, and there were most definitely not three of them!"

"Trouble, Will?" Gray asked his injured friend sitting opposite him.

Will removed his jacket and shirt while Hobbs took his satchel back and found what he needed instantly. Hobbs set about patching up the wounded Will who sighed wearily, running a hand through his sandy brown curls and removing his dust covered spectacles.

"They aren't fledges, not in the least. The boy's quite correct regarding that. They numbered far more than the three we were sent after. The others were newly risen, true, but remarkably well organized. They behaved as though they were under orders, and they followed them very well. It was an ambush, pure and simple. The three leaders left us to their minions. Five of them. Thank the lord for crossbows," Will answered, wiping his spectacles on his dirty shirt, squinting at them, then sighing and placing them back up on his face.

"We're all dead! I have to get out of here. If I'd known these were the sort of mission risks involved, I'd have never left headquarters," the frightened Watcher, Adam Longley rambled, still shaking like a leaf.

Gray and Will exchanged matching grins at the scared "young buck." None of them had expected him to last long. They were betting on him backing out after tonight's excursion, although by the sound of it, what these two had endured was far more than any of them had bargained for.

"We aren't dead, Longley," Will said, still exercising patience, with the boy, despite having dealt with him all night. "We very nearly were, but we're not."

"Yet another of your miraculous escapes then?" Hobbs asked wryly, finished with bandaging Will's chest wound and moving on to the burn on his leg.

"Hardly miraculous, Hobbs. There were only five after all, narrow alley though it was. Now if those first three had stayed, that would have made it miraculous." Will chatted away amicably. Though his voice projected bravado, Gray could clearly see one of Will's hands shaking slightly, betraying the depth to which the encounter had rattled the man.

"So who is it then?" Hobbs asked.

"The Order of Aurelius," Will said, seriously.

Hobbs stared up at Will, his mouth open wide. Longley let out a frightened yelp, gripping his hair as if he was about to tear it out. Gray only blinked, looking his friend in the eye.

"You're certain? It's them?"

"One male, Irish accent, dark-haired. Two females, one blonde, the other dark-haired and insane. I'm positive. It's them," Will answered soberly.

"What are they doing here? And how could they possibly be mistaken for fledges?" Hobbs wondered aloud.

"I have no idea, but they're here and they were. We need to tell the Council and see what's to be done."

"Surely this is a problem for the Slayer." Hobbs declared, standing up.

"It should be," Will answered, with a slight smirk.

"You disagree Will?" Gray asked.

"From what I hear, the Slayer is in France at the moment. However much I might wish that the Council would get her charming derriere back here for this, the truth is that they haven't gone out of their way to stop the Aurelius clan before and they're not likely to choose this moment to begin. They usually attempt to leave these types of matters up to the local hunters, who clearly haven't succeeded. Hell, we'll be lucky to procure reinforcements for the task."

"The Council will do what they can. They know too well that the Aurelius Clan is not to be taken lightly. It can't be helped that only one Slayer at a time exists, which is precisely why they began the hunter program in the first place. Will, you're supposed to be the top hunter in the area. Surely you can come up with a suitable plan for dealing with this menace." Longley said, finally pulling himself together.

The three men simply stared at the lad, and he shrank back a little.

"You'll certainly make for a fine member of the Council, Longley," Will said.

The young man became flustered, fiddling with his jacket; from Will's tone Longley appeared uncertain whether or not it was a compliment or something else. He decided to take it as the former.

"Yes, well, um, thank you."

Gray and Hobbs rolled their eyes. Yes, the boy would make a proper addition to the Council indeed.

"So we rally the troops and come up with a plan of attack then?" Gray asked, deciding to ignore Longley from that point on.

Will swept a hand through his disheveled curls and leaned back.

"I suppose so. However, I think we should avoid a conflict until I can fully recover. I'm not precisely out of action, but if we're going to take on those three, I'd prefer to be in top physical condition first. In the meantime, talk to your sources and spread the word. I wouldn't want anyone else getting caught in a similar trap. It will be easy enough to find out how many hunters are in the area and forewarn them."

"Just when I think you can't possibly get us into any more trouble, look who you manage to run into," Hobbs said, adjusting his hat and buttoning up his coat.

Will stood up and struggled back into his shirt and coat, wincing when his chest wound stretched under the bandages.

"Ah, but Hobbs, think how dull your life would be otherwise for never having known me," he said, with a wink.

Hobbs chuckled and gave the younger man a friendly pat on the back. Gray smiled at them as he rose from his own seat. They didn't always get on so well, of course. That was mostly due to their initial opinion during his first outing to the scary and barbaric world of the Council's pawns. At first they'd seen Will as another mere Watcher-in-waiting. How wrong they'd been.

Gray rubbed his face wearily. "Well, goodnight chaps, I believe we could all use some sleep tonight. Will, do get some rest, and don't spend all your time working out battle tactics. People will begin to worry about you even more, and your mother already has suspicions you've got involved in something improper and dangerous because of your late nights. In addition, remember to get cleaned up before you frighten the staff right out of their skins. As for me, I have a contact I need to inform, then it's off to bed." Gray headed towards the door, giving Longley a nudge with his shoulder, startling the boy out of his frightened musings.

"Are you all right to get back, Longley?" Will asked as the door banged shut behind Gray.

"Uh, well—" Longley stuttered, fidgeting with his clothing.

He very nearly fell forward when Hobbs moved behind him and gave him a slap on the back, laughing at the flustered boy's reaction.

"Don't worry. I'll see the lad gets home safely. Don't want you disappearing and having the Council breathing down our necks now, do we?"

Will chuckled and gave his friend a grateful nod as he made his way out of the stable. He really didn't have the energy to deal with accompanying Longley home. All he wanted was to get reasonably clean and fall into bed before his early start in the morning. Exiting the stable, Will walked down the street, and hailed one of the late night cabbies. It was difficult not to doze off in the coach as it rocked and swayed, but he made it home at last. When he reached his room, he removed his torn, dirty clothes, cleaned up as much as he could at the washbasin, dressed for bed, and crawled under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly, his mind replaying the night's events in his dreams.

"You were out awfully late again last night William," Anne said, while she worked on her embroidery.

"Yes Mother. I'm terribly sorry. I was caught up in a discussion and was unaware of the lateness of the hour. Time slipped by so fast. I won't let it happen again," Will answered, sipping his tea.

They were seated in the sitting room. Will had decided to spend the day with his ailing mother against her protests that he go into town and enjoy himself. He knew that he was worrying her lately, and with her illness getting worse he didn't want to be away from her for long, constantly trying to reassure her that he was all right.

"That job of yours certainly seems to have increased your sociability, William dear. You seem forever to be getting caught up in discussion with your friends these days. Not that I in any way object to your associates stealing you away. I merely wish you would be wary of the time. It isn't safe for gentlemen to be wandering the London streets late at night any more than it is for ladies, with all the pickpockets, thieves, and—" she trailed off, bringing her handkerchief to her mouth, stifling a cough.

William poured her a glass of water from the tray nearby and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and swallowed some of the clear liquid. He watched her tenderly while she drank. He knew what she'd been about to say. It wasn't safe with all the murderers about. People were killed almost every night under mysterious circumstances. He was glad his mother wasn't aware of what horrors truly existed out there under the night sky. When he thought of the Aurelius Clan having arrived in town, he had no doubt the number of killings and missing people would increase dramatically in the next few days. The sooner he recovered and they got organized, the better. They had to put a stop to this threat.

"William?" Anne's voice called to him.

"Hmm, I beg your pardon?" Will shook his head to clear it, realizing he'd been staring into space.

"Where did you go just now? You suddenly seemed awfully preoccupied."

"Oh, it's nothing much, Mother. My employers have asked me to meet some people who have recently arrived in town. They might be troublesome, so I will probably be busy for several days, but I don't want you to worry. Mr. Hobbs and Mr. Gray will take good care of me and make certain that I return home safely." William took the empty glass and placed it back on the tray.

"I hope you won't be too busy to attend the party in two days time? The Underwoods' soirée?"

Will sighed and smiled at his mother. He knew what she was hinting at. She wanted him to settle down. To find a nice, suitable girl and marry her, raise a family, and be content. When he'd revealed an interest in Miss Cecily, his mother had gone about urging him to be present at as many parties and social events which said lady would be attending as possible. The problem was that Cecily didn't even know Will existed, at least outside the physical realm of there being a man called William Pratt, who occasionally turned up at social functions. Even if she did, he mused, she wouldn't know the real him. Even his doting mother, whom he adored, didn't know how much he'd changed from the soft, timid poet she had raised.

"Doubtful, mother; but we can never be sure of these things. If there is one certainty in life, it's that nothing is certain," he said, returning to his chair and fishing out a book that had slipped down between the cushions.

"Surely, it can't be so important that you must miss an opportunity to enjoy yourself. You don't go out for fun enough, William. You should enjoy some recreational time away from your busy schedule, like now, for instance. Instead, you are sitting here reading, with me, at home."

"Nonsense. I'm enjoying the company of a beautiful, intelligent woman while in the comfort of my own home, and catching up on a favorite pastime I fear I'm beginning to forget, due to a busy schedule. I wouldn't wish to be anywhere else, Mother." Will found the page he had marked and crossed one leg over the other. Smoothing the paper out with a gentle hand, he peered down at the words and pretended to study them intently, hoping she would let the matter rest.

"You are a dear boy, William. I'm a lucky woman to have such a generous, kind-hearted son, and any woman who scoops you up will be twice as lucky for finding an affectionate, loyal husband. Do go to the Underwoods' party, William. I'm sure Miss Cecily would love to see you again, and you must read her some of that wonderful poetry. It's another hobby I fear you've been neglecting recently."

Will inwardly rolled his eyes. He was a terrible poet. Deep down, he knew, but it never stopped him from writing all that sentimental drivel. Of course, he used to think that it meant something to share his feelings, spew words of love for a woman he realistically knew would never have him. That was before he knew what the world was really like, how fragile life was and how much he needed to convert his efforts into doing something worthwhile that didn't involve meaningless prattle and rhyming schemes. His mother still encouraged his poetry of course. She wanted him to share his feelings. He was a sensitive lad in her eyes. Dealing with demons had hardened that sensitivity though, toughened him up. How could anyone look into the horrors of the night, realize that the darkness truly did harbor fangs, and still remain lost to their own mundane existence, pretending that they mattered in a world where no one ever saw them? Nevertheless, this was the pretense he had to endure for his mother's sake and those who knew him as a weak, Victorian gentleman.

"Very well, mother. If nothing serious arises before then I shall attend the party, and maybe find time to write while in attendance. It is where my muse will be, after all."

She smiled lovingly at him, and he grinned back. As she bent her head over her embroidery, Will pretended once again to focus on his book. He skimmed the pages, but his mind was elsewhere. He had to get Charlie, the stable hand, to go and meet with some of his contacts and spread the word. Due to an incident when Charlie had been attacked, he was the only member of staff who knew about Will's double life. Will had saved Charlie's life that night and from then on he'd held the man's admiration and loyalty. When Will was occupied, Charlie could be trusted to convey messages to the other hunters around town. Charlie also helped keep Will's nightly activities secret from the rest of the staff who often talked and spread rumors in the house. Charlie was always adept at sending them in the wrong direction. The last thing Will needed was word getting around that he was insane, believing he fought demons at night.

"It's not good news," Hobbs said, marching into Gray's study and picking up the decanter on the desk to fill a glass.

All three of them were gathered in Gray's study. He had the house to himself for the evening, so they had decided to meet there instead of the more dangerous stables, or pubs in which they usually held their meetings. Any vampires spying on them would require an invitation, and it kept up appearances for them to be seen socializing in each other's abodes. Will had arrived earlier, after slipping out of the house unnoticed by the servants once his mother had gone to bed. He was lounging in the chair opposite Gray, his feet on the desk, something he would have balked at under the laws of propriety before, but now did easily in their company. Gray himself was usually the one who adopted such a position. Hobbs was typically the one who stood and paced about the room, always on edge. This was no different.

"What happened?" Gray asked, taking the decanter back from Hobbs to refill his and Will's glasses.

"Hunter in the East End had a run in with them. He's dead. His whole family, actually. Hadn't heard the news in time and thought he was after fledglings. Got one hell of a nasty surprise."

Will observed Hobbs as he swallowed down a large gulp of the fiery liquid. He seemed to savor it as it poured down his throat. Will noticed that afterwards he seemed a bit more relaxed.

"An ambush?" Will asked, curiously.

Hobbs shook his head. "No. The way witnesses tell it, he was with some big fellow before he disappeared. Sources said they saw a group at the house though. Piece it together, and I'm almost certain that first the hunter got into it with Angelus, then the three of them tracked down the family and slaughtered them."

They remained silent for a moment, sparing a thought for the deceased. Will knew they were up against some serious evil this time around. The same thing could happen to them, or worse, if they weren't careful. Their group had built up quite a reputation amongst the demon community, one that could literally come back to bite them in their backsides if they didn't watch their step.

"You realize that you could be a primary target here, don't you Will?" Gray asked.

Will nodded soberly, staring into his drink. He rubbed at his chest absently, something that didn't go unnoticed by the other men in the room.

"Maybe this is a fight we shouldn't rush into. Wait to hear from the Council. If we're persistent enough, the Slayer might—" Hobbs began.

"I'm not going to go running about with a stake the minute my strength's returned, Hobbs," Will interrupted. "I'm not completely insane, despite what you might think. I would fully support the idea of waiting for the Slayer if I thought there was the slightest possibility she was going to pay us a visit. Facts are facts. If the Council wanted the Slayer to chase down the Aurelius Clan, they would have done so already. We're on our own for this one. I'm not eager to be dealing with Angelus and his consorts, but we haven't much choice. People will die. People are already dying, and it's clear that if we don't put a stop to the clan, many of those deaths are going to be hunters and their families. I'm fairly confidant that we're already on their list. Aren't you?"

"You were ambushed, Will. They know you're no lightweight. It's almost as though they were…testing you. I really think that we need to be careful in how we go about this," Gray put in, finishing his brandy and refilling their glasses.

"And by 'we' you mean me, correct?" Will raised an eyebrow at his friend, amused.

"Will, they could have attacked you themselves, but they didn't. They were testing you with that fight. I can feel it. You know the stories about them. They like to play with their prey. I don't want you becoming another of Angelus' masterpieces in some stuffy Council diary," Gray continued, leaning forward in his chair, his tone serious.

"I won't be. Now, I think we should focus on where this information about fledglings is coming from. It appears to me that someone has been setting up hunters. Should this be the case, we need to know who is doing it and why. I don't like to think that we have a double agent in our midst, but it's a possibility. Check your sources and track this rumor. Once the word's out about them, they may change tactics and find some other way to lure us into a trap."

Gray stroked his chin thoughtfully before continuing on. "Now, what do we know about these vampires specifically?"

Hobbs leaned against the edge of the desk; the brandy he'd consumed appeared to be relaxing him at last. He ran a hand over his thick ginger moustache and appeared to be thinking.

"Well, although he's younger than Darla, Angelus is the leader, probably because he's the male. He favors the innocent and likes to toy with his food, torture his victims, and spare no one. Darla tracks young gentlemen, often ruffians, and leads them off to some dark alley where she sinks her fangs in. Drusilla is insane. Made that way by Angelus before he turned her. She has visions, and possesses thrall, which makes her a formidable member of their group. She has a love for children, the young and innocent, probably due to her own childlike mental state. Each one of them poses a threat separately, but together, they are an unstoppable force. If we're to stand any chance we need to separate them." Hobbs took another drink after his brief re-cap of what the Council had recorded about the three vampires.

"Divide and conquer then," Will said, raising his glass and letting the light reflect off it, making it sparkle and dance.

"Did Longley arrive safely back at Council headquarters?" Gray asked, turning to Hobbs.

"Hmm? Oh yes, quite. We won't be seeing him again. He was on his way back to them this morning, I believe," Hobbs said distractedly.

"I should probably hasten home myself. I must be up early tomorrow. Some business I have to take care of—the dull, everyday kind of business. We're to meet the others at the barn tomorrow night then?" Will asked, standing up and setting his glass down on the desk.

The others stood up also, nodding in agreement.

"Do you plan to attend the upcoming Underwood party Will?" Gray asked.

"Possibly, if nothing comes up. Must keep up appearances after all," Will answered, tiredly.

"Poor Willie-boy. Whatever shall you do at such a fine gala, pining after Cecily and having everyone ignore you? You'd be better off coming to the club for a good brawl to make sure you've not gone soft," Gray teased. Hobbs laughed from across the room.

Will pretended to look hurt. "I am shocked that you would treat a friend so. You're supposed to support me. You know, _you_ could attend. Would make me seem less of a social handicap, and I told you not to call me that."

"Ah, but that would defeat the purpose of hiding your secret life, wouldn't it? I mean if you suddenly have friends, people would be suspicious of our darling poet, wouldn't they?" Gray moved to ruffle Will's hair, and Will slapped his hand away, stepping back.

"Oi, stop that," Will said in mock-annoyance.

"I hope you aren't neglecting that wonderful poetry of yours. You know I'd love to read another sometime, maybe one about us and how you're so grateful for the many ways in which we've saved your life," Hobbs added, winking at Gray.

"All right, that's enough. Moreover, I believe it was I who saved you chaps all those times, remember? Maybe I'll let you get eaten next time, if this is the thanks I get."

After a few more jokes at Will's expense, they broke up the meeting, and Will left for home. It was earlier than usual when he arrived, and so he did not fall asleep straight away when he entered his room; he unlocked the drawer of his writing desk and took out the small black journal hidden there. Whereas before he had used the journal to store his awful poetry, now it was his hiding place for his notes on demon hunting. He opened the journal and skimmed over what he'd written regarding his encounter with the Aurelians the other night. There wasn't much new information he could glean from them, but he wanted to be as prepared as possible.

He stroked the cover of the journal, now three-quarters full. The first few pages were vastly different from his current writings. They contained the fears and shocked discoveries of a man whose whole life had been turned upside down. He gazed out of his window at the bright moon in the hazy sky. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it happening again. That first day when everything changed…


	2. William

**William**

_London 1880_

_February_

_7 months previous…_

It was late afternoon and William was locked in his study, working on yet another of his poems to express his adoration for the beautiful Cecily. It was terribly trying to find a rhyme for the exact shade of her eyes when he was unsure if they were green or blue or, perhaps hazel. When he was interrupted by a knock on his door, he jumped up with a start, splattering drops of ink upon the unfinished poem.

The footman walked in with a silver tray, upon which sat the card of a Mr. Benjamin Adams. William couldn't for the life of him imagine who this visitor was or what possible purpose he could have for a visit. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to greet this mysterious visitor. William followed the footman downstairs to the library, where he found the stranger glancing at the paintings on the wall.

"Good day, sir. You asked to see me?" William's voice made the stranger turn around.

He was tall, of slim build, dressed smartly in a fine suit. He had slightly graying black hair and rather harsh brown eyes, which seemed to be analyzing William.

"Mr. Pratt. Pleased to meet you. I am Benjamin Adams and I'm here on behalf of an organization known as the Council of Watchers."

"I'm sorry. I've never—" William began.

"No, no, don't apologize. I know you've never heard of it. We're quite secret you see. The fact of the matter is you had an uncle who used to work for us. One you've probably never met, a Mr. Robert James. He was a Watcher, who produced excellent research work for us, until he died three months ago. Don't be surprised. He was overseas at the time, and as I said, not in touch with the family, which is why you didn't know."

"An uncle?" William asked in surprise then caught the rest of what Mr. Adams had said. "A dead uncle," he repeated thoughtfully.

"I'm here because your uncle's death creates a vacancy within the Council. You see, the Council is composed of members from specific families. Normally, Watchers raise their children to follow in their footsteps much like any other profession, but it's not unusual for them to take on people from the outside." Adams wandered around the room as he spoke, making it difficult for William to get a word in edgewise.

When Adams stopped directly in front of William and cast an expectant glance at him, the young poet paused to let his mind catch up to the conversation. Why was the gentleman here, informing him of the death of an estranged uncle who apparently worked for a secret organization? He was beginning to suspect he was the butt of some sort of joke, but couldn't imagine anyone going to the effort of setting up such an elaborate farce.

"I'm not entirely sure I understand, Mr. Adams." William frowned at the man in front of him. Having regained the ability to speak, he was now waiting for Mr. Adams to explain himself.

"Mr. Pratt, I'm offering you a job. Well, the Council is offering you a job, a chance to be a Watcher, as was your uncle."

"I beg your pardon?" William was completely lost.

"A Watcher, Mr. Pratt, a valued member of society. The pay is respectable, and it will benefit your social standing and allow you and your family to live quite comfortably for the foreseeable future."

William couldn't restrain the chuckle that welled up in him. This was all so preposterous. He really must be the target of some joke. There was no other explanation. He shook his head, laughing, but when he looked back at Adams, the man was perfectly serious and wearing a rather curious expression. William struggled to regain his composure, moved his sandy brown curls out of his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, it's just—this is all so ridiculous. You're here to offer me a job, one that will keep me and mine comfortable for the foreseeable future, and increase my social standing, because of a long lost, recently deceased uncle? Did I misunderstand the secrecy of the organization? How could that give me a respectable position in society, and where could an organization no one's heard of receive the funding required to keep its employees satisfied? Oh and not to forget my Uncle, I mean he died abroad didn't he? So I'm to understand that this is a dangerous career? One that requires me to travel to foreign lands?"

"Mr. Pratt, I assure you that as secret as we are, the Council is well respected by those in positions of power. The people who matter know of our existence and have no problem giving us adequate funding. Your uncle died from illness, nothing untoward, and while it can be risky in the field for Watchers, those who work at headquarters are there for cataloguing and researching and are perfectly safe. Only those who are deemed capable are given the serious task of training potentials."

"Potentials?" William asked.

Adams smiled and took a couple of steps closer to William. He patted him on the arm and gave him an encouraging look.

"Tell you what. You come to headquarters for a visit tomorrow, and see for yourself what we do. If you're interested, we can start your training program immediately. What do you say?"

William considered it. He wanted to say no, he really did, but he was intrigued, and he saw no harm in taking a quick look to see if this man was genuine. He could be the judge as to whether it was worth his time, and maybe it would be beneficial.

"Very well, a visit, just to make up my mind and see the truth of your claims." William said, adjusting his glasses, trying to look business-like and assured.

"Wonderful. I'll send a coach around tomorrow afternoon to collect you. You would make a fine Watcher, Mr. Pratt. Sometimes you can just tell, and I've been in this business long enough to spot the good ones." Adams gave him a parting smile and stepped out into the entrance hall where the footman fetched his hat and coat.

William watched as the man left, a bit bewildered, his mind racing. His poetry forgotten, he returned to his study and sat by the window, staring outside. He couldn't shake the feeling that something momentous had just occurred. He hadn't agreed yet, he tried to remind himself, but somehow, he knew things would never be the same for him again. William didn't quite know what to make at the rush of excitement bubbling up within him, mingled with more than a little fear.

The coach arrived at noon on the dot. William was still trying to reason with himself as he climbed in, and it set off. He assured himself that it was mild curiosity, nothing more and perfectly reasonable, while another part of him was telling him this was a bad idea, that this whole situation was suspicious, and he knew nothing about this strange man, making him an equally strange offer.

After a thankfully brief and rather bumpy journey, he realized they were just approaching the central business district when the coach came to a halt. Adjusting his spectacles and rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head from one particularly unpleasant bump in the road, he got out, still arguing with himself as Adams greeted him and led him up the steps of a towering building. William followed him inside through a large, elegant reception area, then on through several long corridors. They passed rooms where men in suits, both young and old, were studying texts and writing in journals. Adams eventually led them into a wood-paneled room that was filled, floor to ceiling with shelving that contained a dazzling array of crystals, powders, various artifacts, and jars, the contents of which were questionable.

"This looks like—alchemy," William commented nervously.

"In a way, I suppose. This is our magical stock. Something we usually leave to the coven, but it helps to be prepared, and every good Watcher should have hands on experience to understand what it is they're dealing with," Adams replied off-handedly.

William froze in place, staring at his guide with just a hint of fear in his eyes. Adams glanced at him with a questioning frown.

"Something wrong, Mr. Pratt?"

"Magic? Coven? As in witches? You believe in magic and witches? Your Watchers need to have experience with," he cast another timid glance around the room, "this."

"All part of the territory, Mr. Pratt. Come along, I want to show you the training room." Adams carried on down the hall.

William wanted to argue that these ideas amounted to insanity; magic didn't exist. He wanted to run out of the building and away from this madhouse as quickly as possible and forget he'd ever come here. Yet, while he was imagining doing either or both of those things, he instead found himself hurrying after the other man. Shaking his head to clear it of whatever crazy impulses he was suffering to continue this tour, he very nearly bumped into Adams, who had come to a halt in front of a large open balcony, which looked down over a training ground where wooden dummies and various other pieces of equipment were positioned. William's attention soon turned to the rows of weapons lining the walls, and the men engaged in swordplay beneath him.

"A Watcher will rarely be engaged in battle himself, as that is the duty of the Slayer, however sometimes it is necessary to be prepared for a surprise attack, and of course a Watcher needs to be capable of training his Slayer."

"Slayer?" It was the only word William could manage at that moment.

Adams gave him a pat on the back and proceeded to march onwards. William looked back at the men dueling below before following reluctantly, worrying about the next thing this man was going to show him. William wasn't certain he liked the words he was hearing. Actually, he was positive he didn't like them. "Slayer" for instance. What was a Slayer?

"Here we are," Adams said, walking through two massive doors.

William followed cautiously and his mouth dropped open. They were standing in the most enormous private library William had ever seen. It stretched above them at least four floors. There were various tables and desks at which sat more men in suits, stacks of books piled in front of them.

"This is our collection, well most of it at any rate. We have some books that are off limits, only accessible to certain members of staff."

"There's more?" William couldn't help asking, astonished.

Adams grinned and nodded. William blinked. This was a scholars' dream come true.

"If you don't mind my asking, erm, in what type of research do you engage that requires a Watcher to learn to fight and use," he blanched a little at the word, "_magic_? Additionally, what exactly is a Slayer?"

"Now that's the big mystery, Mr. Pratt, isn't it? Have a look at this." Adams picked up a worn, black, leather-bound book from a table nearby after glancing at the title, something William thought looked unpronounceable.

William took the book and flipped it open. He nearly dropped it when he was met with a rather graphic illustration of what he could only describe as a hideous demon.

"Wh—what….?"

"That would be a Heitoch demon, native to Germany. It feeds on about three to four people a month. Usually it's more dangerous in the summer, the Heitoch mating season. One of the thousands, the hundreds of thousands of demons in existence."

William stared at him. This was even more incredible, more insane, than he had suspected. Not only was this man telling him that this organization believed in magic, but he was telling him that demons existed. Adams took the book and flipped through the pages. William was beginning to feel a bit sick and more than a little worried for his safety when he saw the pages were filled with strange occult symbols and more images of demons and monsters. Adams closed the book and placed it back on the table, turning towards William, the humor gone from his expression.

"I know what's going through your head now, Mr. Pratt, but a direct approach will save us both time. Yes, demons exist, magic exists. The supernatural is not something made up by authors and storytellers. Everything originates from truth. The world is a dangerous place. The fight between good and evil is very real, and it's happening right under our noses. There is a delicate balance to the world, a certain order if you will, and the Council does its best to maintain that order, or to at least try to tilt the scales in favor of good."

William began backing away shaking his head. Adams followed him out into the hall where William backed into the wall and stopped, staring back at the man. He couldn't believe what he was being told. However, there was a part of William, some place deep inside, that did believe it. Adams himself believed it. Clearly the hundreds of people working here believed it. The people who wrote all those books also believed it. _B__ut it's not rational!_

"This is—this is outrageous," William stammered. "Why, to suggest such things, monsters, exist—it's nothing more than a fairytale. Watchers and—and Slayers—"

"The Slayer is a chosen champion of the powers, who fights against the forces of darkness. She alone faces the vampires, demons and monsters to protect the innocent. There is one born to every generation. We Watchers have a duty, age-old, to guide these Slayers, train them and show them how to carry out their duty. Our best train the potentials, and if that Watcher's potential is called, will maintain a journal that documents that Slayer's activities until the day she dies and the next Slayer is called. It is a cycle that has gone on for centuries. What we do here is serious business Mr. Pratt, and it's very real. Look around you. Do you really think all this would exist if it were merely the fantasy of a Bedlamite?" Adams gestured to the building they were standing in.

William's mind raced, trying desperately to process all of this information. It was so preposterous, and yet surely a place so well funded couldn't be based upon insanity. Was everything he'd ever known about the world truly a lie? Were there real monsters lurking under beds? Were those fairytales and horror stories really grounded in fact? A warning to those who would venture out at night to be wary of what they might encounter?

Adams watched as William thought about everything he'd seen. He'd recruited many Watchers over the years, and the ones who hadn't grown up with the knowledge of what they dealt with every day were always difficult to convince, and he'd long ago stopped caring if he seemed insane. If the men who turned down the offer had told anyone, they'd never be believed and most that refused preferred to forget the entire thing had occurred at all. He found the best method was to just come straight out with it, allow them a few moments to digest the information and decide if curiosity outweighed what they were hearing as irrational and untrue. As Adams watched the wheels turning in William's brain, he recognized all the internal arguments as they played out, and knew the instant William came to a decision, even before the he did.

"Take your time about it. Go home and consider the offer. If you think it's worth your time, and you want to learn more, come back tomorrow. It will be entirely up to you whether you decide to accept the position. I'll send a coach for you at the same time as today. If you decide it's not what you want, you can just send it away and never worry about it again. If, on the other hand, you are interested, come back here, and I'll show you a bit more of what we do, explain what your role would be, what training you would undergo, that sort of thing. The ball is entirely in your court, Mr. Pratt."

After a few seconds of silence, William nodded. He adjusted his suit and adopted a more dignified posture.

"Yes, well, I believe I would appreciate some time to—think things through. Thank you."

"No problem Mr. Pratt. It isn't something a man should rush into after all. Would you like something to eat or drink before you leave? We have refreshments available—" Adams said, pleasantly.

"Er, no, no thank you. I must be getting back. I should really tend to Mother. She's been under the weather as of late. Again, I appreciate your offer. I'll…I'll make my decision tomorrow." William gathered himself together and began to walk back the way they'd come, Adams following closely behind.

When they reached the main doors, Adams shook William's hand firmly. He gave him an intense stare and William shifted uncomfortably under the other man's scrutiny. He seemed to be searching for something, trying to make up his mind about William. He eased back after a few seconds pause, relaxing his grip, apparently happy with what he'd found in the young poet's eyes.

"Well then, I hope to see you tomorrow my good man. Something tells me you'd fit in quite well here."

"Er, yes. Good day Mr. Adams." William hurried out of the door, down the steps and into the waiting coach, eager to get away from the strange building and its occupants and back to the safety of the familiar.

Time to think outside those walls would be a relief. He was finding it difficult to convince himself to forget the notion that he could become a Watcher. That he would even consider the offer surprised him. When it came to horror stories and myth, William was somewhat of a skeptic, though no more than most. He believed in creativity and the imagination which created these other worldly creatures, not the creatures themselves. The more he pondered Adams' offer, the more it baffled him why he hadn't just turned it down flat.

Arriving home, William found himself distracted for the rest of the day. He kept replaying the afternoon's events, tumbling the idea around in his head. What startled him was that a part of him could see it, could see him walking through those Council corridors, researching in the vast library. He was having a little more difficulty picturing himself performing spells or fooling around with strange mystical artifacts, yet for some reason the thought of learning to use weapons appealed to him. William was by no means a violent man. He avoided conflict at all costs and spent most of his time in the shadows, someone who faded into the background and was rarely seen, which was how he preferred it. Isolation suited him. It gave him the opportunity to work on his poetry, allowed him to search for the words that could express his true emotions and lately to watch the woman of his dreams, his muse and find suitable words to woo her, which was his heart's greatest desire. Yet despite this, William couldn't suppress that niggling part of him that insisted that learning how to use weapons would be beneficial and interesting.

At dinner he'd had to ask his mother to repeat what she'd said several times as his mind wandered away, and he would only realize she'd asked him something when she stared at him, a curious look on her face. After the fourth time, she asked him what was wrong.

"William, dear, you seem—out of sorts. Is something the matter?" Anne asked, worriedly.

"Oh. No, I'm fine, really. I just…you remember I told you I was meeting with that Adams fellow?" William answered.

Anne thought for a moment and nodded.

"Yes. That was quite a mysterious visit, I remember. What was it you had to see him about?"

"He offered me a job. A research position. Nothing much, just cataloguing and such for a rather large company. I've been considering it, that's all. If I'm interested, I'm supposed to pay them another visit tomorrow at the same time," William answered.

He didn't want to go into too much detail about his "job offer," but he had to tell her something. He wondered how she'd feel about it. Now, she was so ill, she couldn't really venture outside the house, and William had made it his duty to spend as much time as possible with her, even though she'd never asked. If he took Adams up on this Watcher business, it would mean he would be away quite often. He didn't want her health deteriorating because she began to feel lonely.

"Oh. Well, that's good I suppose. A research position, William? Are you going to take it?"

She didn't seem too put out, but his mother was always doing things for his benefit, despite her own needs. She probably wanted to see him out of the house for a while. Enjoying himself, as it were. Although, how enjoyable his new job would be, was questionable in itself.

"I seem to be, however I'm not entirely certain that it would be a good idea. He said it pays comfortably. It would be a new experience working for them, but I don't know very much about them, and I'd be away from you quite often. I wouldn't want you to go without company, Mother."

"Oh, William, nonsense, I'll be perfectly all right. We do get the occasional visitor, and I have plenty to keep me amused. I also spend a lot of time napping in the afternoon now anyway. You should visit again, and see what you think. You might surprise yourself and discover a new interest, and I know you would be a dedicated worker. You won't know unless you try William. Certain opportunities are worth exploring."

William pondered that. It was worth exploring, if only, because it seemed so outrageous. Did he really want to discover that demons were real though? He nodded, and they continued with their dinner, William trying to focus his attention on the meal with difficulty.

Shutting himself up in his study that evening, as he often did, William found himself pacing the floor, desperate to make sense of what it was he was doing, what he was going to do. Because just as he could see himself working for the Council, he could see himself getting into the coach tomorrow, and that, was a much more frightening prospect.

Where had this impulse come from? He'd never felt an urge to find employment when there was no need before, and he had responsibilities at home, looking after his mother. He shook his head as he contemplated this sudden desire for adventure, which he was certain working for the Council would be. He'd only visited the premises once and already his mind was spinning, the world seeming to tilt and shift underneath his very feet at the allegations Adams had made.

_And that's all they are. Allegations. There's no proof. God don't let there be proof._ William reached one end of the room and whirled around, pacing even faster. _What am I thinking? Of course there's no proof!_ He chuckled to himself helplessly.

_Perhaps, it's because of what he showed me in those books. Demons. To suggest that they are real, that they exist. Well, that would make anyone want to defend themselves, wouldn't it? Look at me, I'm actually behaving as if this is real. If monsters exist I've certainly never seen one._

_Maybe that's because you've been lucky so far,_ a voice in his head argued.

It made William pause. He shook his head to clear it.

_No, someone would have said something, alerted the authorities. If they existed in today's world they wouldn't go unseen. And sightings wouldn't just amount to myths and legends either. There would be more—proof._

_But what if the people who do see them don't survive to tell anyone? Or perhaps that's the significance of the Council? They are secret after all. Is that because people have seen these creatures and they are the ones protecting us mere mortals from them? Them and the Slayer. The one girl in all the world…_

William came to a halt again. It hadn't sunk in the first time he'd heard it, he'd been too busy trying to process everything else. The Slayer was a girl, a girl who fought demons. It was a bit too much for his Victorian mind to comprehend. Unlike many gentlemen, he was all for the advancement of women, but the thought that a woman would fight those—creatures, was a little much. How could a girl fight—those? And "she alone?" She was the only one? Against (if he was to believe Adams and those books) hundreds of thousands of those things?

_Doesn't seem like much of a balance to me. Seems more like we should all be dead by now, the world a hellish place where humans are extinct instead of thriving._

He started pacing again, occasionally running a hand through his hair, sweeping the curls out of his eyes. He was never going to sleep tonight if he continued to think about this, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, or the coach that would arrive tomorrow to carry him away from these safe walls and into a brand new world, one he had no way to prepare for.

Finally giving up on his pacing, William removed his spectacles and rubbed his tired eyes. He eyed the drinks cabinet to his left…his rarely used drinks cabinet. William mostly kept it there on the rare occasion he had a visitor, typically over some business that needed to be taken care of. He poured Scotch into a glass and settled into his chair. After taking a sip, he stifled a cough, as he grew accustomed to the taste. He usually didn't have anything stronger than wine, but he felt the current situation warranted something with a little more kick to it. He could already feel himself beginning to relax as the drink settled into his system. Maybe this way he could at least get some rest tonight. He knew he was going to need it.

The next afternoon, William stood in his study looking out of the window at the coach waiting below. He had woken up that morning with a dull headache from the Scotch last night. One glass had led to two, then three, and all he knew was that over half the bottle was gone when he found it sitting on his desk that morning. The pain had luckily receded to a mild throbbing by this time so he was feeling slightly better. He stared at the coach with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The clock behind him seemed to grow increasingly loud as the seconds ticked by. With a sigh, he let the curtain slip back into place and stepped away from the window.

The building was just as large and imposing as he remembered. He made his way up the steps, fidgeting at his waistcoat the entire way up. As he entered the building he began to take in the familiar exquisite décor for only a few moments before Adams arrived, a knowing smile on his face. Adams held out a hand that William accepted, shaking it firmly, trying to push his uneasiness away.

"Well Mr. Pratt, I'm pleased to see you decided to give it a try." Adams said.

"I'm here to learn more. I haven't accepted yet, but—I would like to know more specifics about the position. I know enough to know that what I learn here will forever change my understanding of the world, as it has already. If I find out that what you do here is as beneficial as it appears to be, given what you've told me—then I want to help."

"A wise and well thought out decision, Mr. Pratt. Come, I'll show you a bit more of this place, introduce you to some Watchers, let you read a few more texts and explain the training program. You have a lot to catch up on."

Adams turned and led William through the maze of corridors again. William followed, but he had a question he wanted to ask first.

"The other day, you mentioned the Slayer. You said 'she alone must face the darkness.' Am I to understand that the Slayer is a woman, and she must be alone when she faces the creatures you showed me? Isn't that a little much? Moreover, how could one girl be everywhere at once? Forgive me, but it seems a little difficult to imagine that people wouldn't be more aware of the thousands of demons in the world if there's just one girl fighting them."

"Ah yes. The Slayer is always female, it's been that way since a Slayer existed. Not much is known regarding the reason. Texts don't go back that far, and any that hint at the Slayer's origins are either in a language too old to fully translate, or have been lost or partially destroyed. The Watchers Council is a global organization that does its best to protect the innocent worldwide and keep the knowledge of the evil present in the world contained. I think you'll agree that the last thing we need is a global panic, which is what would occur were people to find out. It is the Slayer's duty to prevent the worst apocalyptic disasters, but she cannot handle everything alone, you are right about that."

"So then, you Watchers fight these beasts as well?" William asked seriously.

Adams paused, seemingly to consider his answer.

"No, not as such. The Council hires people to patrol the streets and keep the public safe. There are groups of people worldwide who are aware of the unusual, deadly nightlife, and they have made it their goal to eliminate these creatures. A few years ago the Council became aware of these freelance demon fighters and offered to fund their organization if they worked for us. They accepted. I dare say you'll meet them for yourself if you agree to work here. Part of every Watcher's training is to venture out into the battlefield with the Hunters. It gives them a taste of what the Slayer faces, and if they decide they are better suited to the job of hunting then they can choose to become a Hunter. Not everyone is cut out to be a Watcher after all." Adams said, with a wink.

"Go out and…hunt," William asked, a little nervously.

Adams gave him a pat on the back and a cheerful grin.

"Don't worry, Mr. Pratt, almost all of them come back alive, and besides, you haven't said yes yet, have you?"

Adams walked on down the corridor and William followed behind slowly.

"No, I haven't," he muttered to himself, though inwardly he knew that he was already a lost cause.


	3. Hunters

**Hunters**

_London 1880_

_April…_

"For heaven's sake, do stop fidgeting, Pratt. Honestly, you're making me nervous just looking at you. It's a routine part of our training, I assure you," Heading said, rolling his eyes at William.

William lowered his hands from his waistcoat and placed them on the seat, just in time to steady himself as the coach hit a rather hard bump in the road. He was a bundle of nerves, but this was the first time he would meet the Hunters he'd heard about, the men who were out fighting these monsters without any supernatural abilities. He was both in awe of them and a little fearful. He knew they had a reputation for being crude and unpleasant, but surely their toughened exteriors were due to the horrors they had to face. The horrors he might face with them if this excursion proved fruitful. He might very well see one of the monsters from the books in the flesh tonight, so he was having a little difficulty sitting still.

William looked up to see Edward Roth surveying them, sighing as he did so. He was the liaison between the Council and the Hunters, and neither much liked the other. They were not overly fond of Roth either; the Watchers, because he was the one they associated with this traumatic ordeal and they saw him as no better than the barbaric hunters he introduced them to, and the Hunters, because he continued to weigh them down with Watchers who had to be taken care of. In a situation where their lives were at risk, they had a hard enough time looking after themselves.

Julian Heading was made to be a Watcher, both from his outward appearance as a well dressed, rigid, somewhat haughty man, and from his attitude of self-importance and general boredom with life. He had studied to be a Watcher since he was a young boy and strove to be the best, hoping to catch the Council Head's attention. If he played his cards right, he could end up with a high position within the Council. This could eventually lead to him becoming the Head of the organization.

William, on the other hand, was a new addition to the Watchers in training. For the past few months he had stumbled his way through the training program. He had very nearly destroyed headquarters when he set off an Adronian Ferintoff crystal by accident one day. It was agreed that he be kept away from magic and mystical artifacts for a while. Roth's furrowed brow as he studied William made it obvious that like every other member of the Council's staff, he was certain a man like William would have fled the fold long ago. Instead, William had persisted in his training, eventually leading to the required field experience.

"Well,"Roth said, suddenly, "better have the coach ready early tonight. Make no mistake boys, you'll be running for the hills in no time, even the star pupil." He chuckled at Julian's disapproving glare.

William watched his fellow trainee out of the corner of his eye. The man was tall and confident. His chestnut hair and mustache were groomed to perfection. This whole journey seemed to bore him. William was worried he would make a spectacle of himself in front of the Hunters, but Heading seemed to view the exercise the way he viewed anything else, as something not worth his time, an inconvenience that must be dealt with before he got down to serious business.

When the coach came to a halt, Roth exited first and waited for his two charges to follow him. He led them down narrow, twisting streets and stopped in front of a public house.

"Might have known this would be the sort of place where Hunters would arrange our meeting," Julian muttered.

William looked at Roth to gauge his reaction. The older man just pursed his lips and straightened his back before swinging open the door and walking inside. William allowed Julian to pass then he followed. It was noisy inside. There were plenty of patrons enjoying their evening's entertainment of singing, dancing, and of course, drinking, and no one paid attention to the newcomers. Roth led them through the crowd of people to a room near the back where things were a little quieter. He continued to a table in a far, dark corner and stopped. He bent over to talk to someone for a minute before turning around and gesturing to William and Julian.

"Allow me to introduce Julian Heading and William Pratt, your apprentices for the night." Roth smirked as he pointed to each of the men. "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Ashton Gray, and Mr. Geoffrey Hobbs, your Hunters for the evening. They'll be teaching you the basics and allowing you to observe them in action."

William and Julian peered around Roth who stepped slightly to the side to allow them to see the two Hunters. The one Roth indicated as Gray was quite relaxed looking; leaning back in his chair, feet stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He was of slim build and hardly seemed the type to be out fighting demons. He acknowledged them casually with a slight nod, but William didn't miss the way he scanned them up and down, no doubt making a mental note of what he could judge of their characters. The one called Hobbs was a larger man, with ginger hair and a mustache he was absently scratching with one finger. He was sitting straight up and clutching a glass of whisky; his fingers tapping against the glass in a speedy rhythm. He looked them over then stared at them coldly. William shifted beneath his gaze. He got the feeling they were very unwelcome. Hobbs turned away from them to catch Gray's eye.

"So which one do you want then?" he asked loudly, ignoring the outraged noise that escaped Julian.

"Does it matter?" Gray asked, lazily, his attention focused more on his drink than any of the men surrounding him.

"I beg your pardon! We are not some worthless—" Julian began.

"Not really, but I picked last time. It's only fair," Hobbs said, continuing to ignore Julian.

Gray scanned William and Julian again, before shrugging and facing Hobbs.

"I suppose I'll take Willie-boy there. He seems less high-strung."

William caught the odd look Roth threw Gray as if to say, "Are you mad?" William was offended, but he understood what Roth meant. He was much more nervous than Julian. He knew full well Roth expected him to bolt at the first sign of danger, and he was almost certain that's precisely what he would do. Julian was livid, his face turning a dark shade of red in fury from being spoken about in such a manner by people he considered to be practically thugs.

"All right, fine. I'll take the arrogant sod then," Hobbs replied, finishing his whisky in one gulp.

William looked at the ground quickly to hide the smile tugging at his lips. It was even more difficult to stifle the chuckle that rose in his throat when Heading's face turned from red to purple. Gray spared a smirk at Heading and returned to looking at his drink.

"You're splitting up I take it?" Roth asked, smiling, clearly amused by the flustered Watcher and the uncaring Hunters.

"Not much around lately besides a couple of vampires. Just fledges, nothing too serious if you can get them alone. We'll split up and cover more ground then meet in the large Woodrow Cemetery to finish off the night. We've a recent burial due to 'animal attack.' It's most likely a vampire that's going to rise tonight. We'll do our best to get them a good look at one, even if it is slow around here," Gray explained, knocking back his drink and standing up.

Hobbs reluctantly rose to his feet and picked up his coat, shrugging it on and finally turning to Heading.

"Come on then, let's get this over with. The sooner we hunt down some beasties, the sooner you can run off home to Mummy, and I can get back to doing this God-awful job sane people don't want without having to worry about someone else's skin besides my own," he said, gruffly, shoving past the slightly smaller man and making his way to the door.

Heading stood there gaping like a fish for a few moments before realizing Hobbs wasn't going to wait for him. He cast an angry glare at the other three before hurrying after his guide. William watched them go then turned back to Gray, who was watching the door with a smile on his face. He noticed William looking at him and walked over to pat him on the back.

"Best be getting to work then eh, Willie-boy? Come on, I'll watch your hide for you, but you better do as I tell you, understand?" he asked, seriously.

William nodded his agreement.

"Good. Right then, follow me. We'll meet you here in a few hours," he said to Roth, who was settling himself down at the abandoned table.

"Don't worry. I'll be here warming my bones and enjoying a few drinks in the short time before I have to take them back home. No offence, Pratt, but none of you Council chaps last too long around here. Not when you have to face something with teeth and realize that it could actually kill you. God, I hate my job, but a man has to eat. Don't hurry back, though I know you will," Roth grumbled, signaling his need for a drink and shooing them away.

Gray sighed and looked to the ceiling before making his way to the door. William followed close behind, vowing to himself to do exactly as this man said and try to stay out of his way. He felt for the stake he had concealed in his coat. He doubted he would be using it, but it was precautionary for a Watcher to keep a stake on his person when travelling at night, and considering their venture tonight it would at least make William feel more secure.

"So Willie-boy, what has you studying to be one of the Watchers?" Gray asked, as they strolled down yet another dark, empty street.

"William."

"I beg your pardon?" Grey asked, confused, glancing sideways at William.

"My name. It's, eh, William, not Willie," William said, quietly.

Gray continued to look at him, one eyebrow quirked, and the trace of a smile on his face.

"Right. So why are you working for them? You don't strike me as the type to go in for all that nonsense. Roth mentioned you're new to this demon business."

"Nonsense? Forgive me, but aren't you also working for them? Demons do exist, so how could it be nonsense?" William asked, curious.

"Oh the demons are real, true enough, and the Council chaps do have a job to do training the Slayer. No, I meant the holier than thou attitude of theirs, as if the fate of the world rests on their shoulders. I do work for them, but only because it's difficult enough for us to earn a living while trying to handle the demon population. At least with them funding us we aren't overworking ourselves trying to put food on the table _and_ keep people safe. We work for them out of necessity, because they are the ones who live the good lifestyle, locked away behind closed doors, barring the ones who get a Potential to train. You seem like an honest enough man, and not one to look down on others. It doesn't particularly fit with the Council image."

"You're the first person to say that to me. The man who introduced me to all this seemed to think I would fit right in. The rest thought it was more likely I would turn down the offer and pretend I'd never heard about any of this."

"That's because they can't look beyond what they see on the outside, which as far as you're concerned, is a gentleman who engages with respectable members of society, but is the studious type, perfect for one of their researchers, even if you are a little timid."

"But that isn't what you see?" William couldn't help asking.

"Well, if men were what they appeared to be, yes, but then I wouldn't be a demon hunter, would I? What I think is that you're a very moral person. You want to do the right thing, which is a rare trait in a man. Despite your fears or lack of ability, you're willing to work hard to help people, which you think you can do if you become a Watcher, am I right?" Gray glanced at William again, waiting for an answer.

"You don't think Watchers help people?" William asked, admiring the man's perceptiveness.

Gray turned his attention back to their path as he led them down an alley and through another maze of shadowy cobbled streets.

"Possibly. It's difficult to say. Watchers aren't my favorite people, and Hunters aren't theirs, so any opinion I have is biased. I suppose they do help people in a way, if they're the right kind of Watcher. My sympathies tend to lie with those who venture outside a safe-house and save lives while putting their own in danger. You didn't answer my question before, about why you're working for them."

"You answered it yourself. I want to do the right thing. I tried to forget it at first. Tried telling myself it was preposterous, but I knew it couldn't be after—well after I saw the Council Headquarters. All those books about demons, the Slayer and magic convinced me. How does a person just forget all that? How could they ignore that knowledge? There are real manifestations of evil out there that at any moment could kill a loved one or the person themselves, and they can brush it off as if it's nothing?"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is for people. It's actually rare for a person to face up to the truth, like yourself, and that is what makes you unique. You weren't born into this life like that other Watcher was. You were thrown into it unexpectedly and you've accepted it. That has more of a Hunter quality to it. Even so, this isn't a desirable life. It's dangerous for you and your family. Which is why most Hunters are people with nothing left to lose but themselves."

They continued walking in silence. William pondered what Gray had told him. He agreed with him about the Council. So far reading books on the subject didn't appear to be of much help to anyone, learning what was already known by the scholars who wrote them and doing nothing about it, but surely they were doing some good in the world? He admired the Hunters and looked up to them, but tonight he would see what their lives were really like, and that was what he wanted to know most of all. He felt proud that Gray had said he had a Hunter-like quality to him when William was just a bumbling fool in everyone else's eyes.

"So how is your training going anyway?" Gray broke the silence again as they headed towards the graveyard.

"Oh, as well as can be expected for someone like me. The research is tedious but manageable. Magic is most definitely _not_ my strong point. Weapons I can manage, but then that's in a training room against a static target or occasionally a fellow trainee."

"Which basically makes it pretty much redundant for all the fighting capability a Watcher has," Gray put in.

William sighed and nodded in agreement. Gray chuckled.

They entered the quiet graveyard and made their way through the weaving pathways circling the markers of the dead. They came to a halt at the top of a slope where a tree stood tall and proud, it's branches forming a protective canopy over the graves beneath its roots.

"Luther Fairwell," William read from the grave marker they had stopped in front of. "This is the one you expect will rise tonight?"

Grey nodded, staring at the pile of earth in front of him. He turned his gaze to the path to see two figures approaching.

"Looks like they made it here alive then. Probably didn't run into anything either since the other chap's still here."

William looked up as Hobbs and Heading approached. Hobbs was looking extremely annoyed and Heading's mouth was a tight line. William wondered if they had perhaps had a fight. He was almost positive they had or rather Heading had said something the Hunter didn't like and got a tongue-lashing for it. Heading wasn't used to being treated with anything other than respect, but William guessed that Hobbs had very little patience for the "arrogant sod" and saw no problem putting him in his place. Part of him wished he'd been there to see it.

"Quiet night for you too?" Gray asked his friend who came to stand beside him.

"In a manner of speaking," Hobbs answered dryly.

Heading stood on the far side of Hobbs, keeping a gap between them and didn't even spare a glance at the other two men, staring ahead at the still earth instead. They waited for about a half an hour and nothing moved. They stood in uncomfortable silence, William casting glances at the others occasionally. Heading was still in a snit, refusing to acknowledge anyone, and the Hunters just kept an eye on the grave, well used to the wait. An owl hooted nearby, adding to the eeriness of the dark graveyard, a fog slowly beginning to roll in, the longer they stood there. Eventually, Heading's patience ran out.

"Oh, for God's sake, how much longer? Are you sure it's supposed to rise tonight? Do you have the right grave?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Hobbs let out what almost sounded like a growl, raising his eyes to heaven before turning to his charge.

"I'm terribly sorry that the vampires don't want to be more punctual for you, your Highness, but then demons were never much known for courtesy. Perhaps you should take it up with them when they get here. The least they could do is rise to kill you on time, isn't it."

Just then a hand burst through the soil at their feet, and all four of them jumped back, startled. Gray and Hobbs recovered quickly, grabbing their stakes and adopting a defensive stance. William and Heading backed up to a safe distance, their eyes wide as they watched two, dirt-covered, pale hands claw their way up out of the soil as the vampire emerged. They gasped when they saw its face. Bumps and ridges marred its forehead and nose; its eyes were golden and cold, like a true predator, and its fangs were extended, the sharp points highlighting how lethal this creature was.

"Just keep back and you'll be fine," Gray said, keeping his eyes trained on the vampire.

Suddenly, they heard noise coming from behind them. They turned to see two more vampires emerging from graves nearby. William felt his heart stop, and his blood ran cold. Heading yelped and darted behind William, turning an accusatory glare to the two Hunters between him and the first vamp.

"You said there was only going to be one!" he shrieked, panicked.

"I want to smack you more with every second that passes," was Hobbs' reply as he backed up slowly, turning to face one of the advancing vampires from behind while Gray remained locked on the first one.

That left William facing the third, Heading remaining behind him. William was frozen in place as he watched it advance.

The other two creatures snarled and approached the Hunters slowly then attacked. Hobbs blocked the second vamp's attack and turned, leading it away from the little group and giving himself space to fight. Gray sidestepped the newly undead Mr. Fairwell and swiped at him with the stake, grazing its chest on the way by. It snarled viciously and lunged again, and Gray fended it off with the stake, keeping it at arm's length.

William watched the third vamp jump towards him in shock.

"Your stake! Use the bloody stake!" Heading screeched.

This jerked William out of his panic long enough to allow him to jump away from the attacking vamp, narrowly missing its fangs. He bumped straight into Heading and the two stumbled backwards. Heading tripped and fell, landing in a heap, and William, in turn, tripped over Heading's feet, crashing down on top of the other man.

"Agh! Get off me!" Heading shouted, trying to shove William up and scramble out from under him, screaming when the vamp dived for them again.

William watched the vamp descend towards him, his eyes wide, fully expecting to feel its fangs bury themselves in his throat. Some survival instinct he was unaware of kicked in at the last second and his hand holding the stake moved into position. William saw himself reflected in the creature's golden eyes seconds before the thing exploded into dust, having thrown itself onto the stake. He coughed and choked as he breathed in the dust particles then gagged at the thought of breathing vampire dust. He crawled shakily to his feet and brushed himself off, rapidly removing the dust from his clothes and hair. Heading sat there in shock, uncaring of the dust floating down on top of him.

"You staked it. It exploded. It was about to…" he trailed off, and his eyes glazed over as he stared ahead at nothing.

William could still hear the scuffles of the other fights behind him and watched as Gray ducked a punch from his opponent, using the opening it afforded him to thrust the stake upwards into its heart, causing it too, to burst into dust, making a disturbing noise of pain as it vanished. Hobbs prepared himself as his vamp charged towards him and swiftly kicked out a leg to trip it up, sending it sprawling face first into the dirt. It landed only a few feet from where Heading was sitting on the ground, and seeing the thing stare him in the face and hiss at him, the Watcher emerged from his daze, scrabbling backwards quickly. The vamp snarled and moved towards him, but Hobbs was on it in a second, shoving the stake into its heart from the back then it too was dust. Heading proceeded to faint, his eyes rolling up as he collapsed on the ground with a thud.

"Well, that went well," Gray commented, as he stared down at the unconscious man.

"Huge improvement, if you ask me," Hobbs said, returning his stake to his coat and dusting himself off. "Blasted creatures. Why do they have to do that? Ruin perfectly good clothes, they do."

"Now look who's complaining about the courtesy of vampires," Gray said, grinning, turning to William to share in the joke.

He looked the frightened man over and his grin changed into a sad smile. He walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Pratt, forgot you were new to this. Now, you've seen what they're like. Wait a minute, you staked one didn't you?" Gray asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"What?" Hobbs asked, looking over at William who was shaking a bit. "He staked one?"

William nodded. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to…that is to say I don't know how I did it, it just—fell on the stake."

"However it happened, it was bloody brilliant man. No one gets one their first time out, especially not Watchers in training. That was marvelous and star pupil Heading fainted. I dare say you've just proved my earlier point, Willie-boy," Gray said, grinning again and clapping William on the back.

"William," came the automatic reply.

"Yes, yes, William." Gray winked at Hobbs. "What do you think, Geoffrey? There's a bit of a Hunter in him, wouldn't you say?"

"There might be, but I don't think he's exactly up to our sort of work, do you?" Hobbs answered, gesturing at the shaking man.

All of this was a shock to William's system, and since it was practically a guarantee that these trips would frighten the trainees away and back behind some desk in Council Headquarters, William thought he was doing awfully well to still be standing here, even if he was a little ill. The world had seemingly decided to start spinning, and William was getting rather dizzy as he tried to remain upright. He focused on Gray as best he could when the Hunter moved over to study the prone Heading on the ground.

"You have the smelling salts? I don't fancy carrying him back to Roth."

Hobbs rooted around in his pockets before locating a small bottle that he handed to Gray. Gray bent down, removed the cork, and waved it under the unconscious man's nose. Heading's nostrils flared a bit and his nose wrinkled up like a rabbit's; then suddenly his eyes popped open. He struggled to sit up and clutched his head with one hand. Grey re-corked the bottle and handed it back to Hobbs, who returned it to his pocket.

"Come along then, let's get you both back. Wouldn't want to be caught unawares by any more vampires out and about, now would we?" Hobbs said, waiting for the expected reaction.

Realization dawned on Heading who bolted upright, shot to his feet, and rushed to stand between the two Hunters. William nodded and joined the little group, replaying the scene in his mind. The vampire's fangs as they reached for his neck, the golden, hungry eyes, the snarl and the foul breath before it was gone, all because of a sharpened piece of wood he'd moved at the last second.

They made their way out of the cemetery and back to the pub, where the coach was waiting. Gray went inside to look for Roth, but Heading didn't want to wait that long, and he climbed inside the coach. William paused for a second before following, settling himself into the seat. They waited a few minutes, Heading looking out the window anxiously until Roth appeared and hauled himself inside, letting the door close with a bang behind him.

"So how was the adventure then? Stake any vampires boys?" he asked, winking, before barking out a laugh.

William nodded and Heading ignored them. Roth's laughter cut off when he saw William's nod.

"You mean to say you staked one? No, the Hunters did, right? I mean, you didn't actually get one on your own did you?" he asked, incredulously.

"Fell on the stake," William mumbled staring at his hands.

Roth continued to gape at him but William didn't acknowledge him. The coach set off and the three sat in silence as it swayed and shook, rolling along on the cobbled street, leaving Hobbs and Gray to watch them from outside the pub.

"And there go another pair. Why do we keep agreeing to do this? Let someone else babysit the young-uns for a while," Hobbs grumbled.

"It's supposed to be a compliment. They give them to us because they know we'll keep them alive," Gray answered.

"Nearly bloody didn't tonight, did we? Exactly where did those other two vampires come from? I don't like those kinds of surprises. I'm going to have to have a word with Archie about that. See why he forgot to mention three victims of animal attacks were buried there recently, and not just one, though I'm betting the answer is he was too busy emptying bottles to remember the facts correctly. Bloody useless lout."

"Well, it was experience for them. Expect the unexpected, and Pratt staked one."

"By accident."

"By instinct. He's not like the other ones. He's…realistic, and he wants to help, like we do."

Hobbs turned to Gray and raised an eyebrow.

"You aren't seriously delusional enough to think he might become a Hunter, are you? For God's sake, it's a wonder he stayed with the Council. You saw the state he was in when they left. The man was terrified. Hunters are born into the profession or forced into it by circumstance. It has nothing to do with choice. You know that."

Hobbs entered the pub, leaving Gray outside to stare at the place where the coach had rounded the corner. He scanned the shadows around the pub for a minute before turning to follow his friend, sighing sadly.

"I know. I know all too well," he whispered as he went inside.


	4. Will

**Will**

_London 1880_

_April…_

William had nightmares that night and the next. Visions of golden eyes and fangs loomed in front of him, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat. By the third day, he'd made up his mind.

He returned to Council headquarters, ignoring the surprise he saw on the faces of the Watchers he passed, and headed for Adams' office. He knocked lightly on the door and waited for the muffled "Come in" before entering. Adams was seated at his desk, with his nose buried in a book. He glanced up as William shut the door softly behind him. Adams leaned back in his chair when he saw who had entered.

"Ah, Pratt. How nice to see you again. To be honest, we weren't expecting you back so soon, if we saw you again at all. It's not often people recover quite so quickly from a night out with the Hunters. After the ordeal you had, I would have expected it to take twice as long to shake off the experience. Heading hasn't returned yet."

This news didn't surprise William, but he kept those thoughts to himself as he approached the desk.

"Oh, please, do sit down. What was it you wanted to discuss? Are you ready to return to work or are you leaving us?" Adams asked, pleasantly, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk.

William sat in the proffered chair and adjusted his spectacles, preparing himself for what he was about to say.

"Well, yes and no," he began, raising his head to look Adams in the eye, his tone serious.

Adams frowned and leaned forward a little bit, tilting his head slightly.

"I'm not certain I understand what you mean, Pratt? Yes you are joining us, or no, you're not?"

"I am ready to return to employment, yes," William clarified.

Adams relaxed a little, the crease in his forehead smoothing out.

"Excellent. Well then—" he began, but William cut him off.

"But not with the Council, or rather, not with the Watchers."

The frown returned instantly. Adams opened his mouth to ask a question and then changed his mind, choosing instead to tilt his head even further, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle as he gave William a puzzled look. He resembled a dog who'd been utterly confused by an order that he couldn't comprehend. William took a deep breath and explained.

"Well, you see, I decided I don't have the makings of a Watcher—"

Adams scoffed, interrupting William.

"Now, Pratt, there's really no need to have that attitude. Everyone is a bit discouraged by the field experience. All it means is that you probably won't be as suited to guiding a Potential as others may be. We can easily find you another position. There are plenty of opportunities to serve the Council in research or, perhaps not magical studies, but—"

"No, I mean…" William ran a hand through his hair nervously then straightened up in his chair and tried again. "I wish to become a Hunter."

There, he'd said it. He relaxed a little and waited for a response. Adams simply stared at him for a moment then blinked and coughed.

"Em, Pratt, I don't quite see where this is coming from. You're expressing a desire to join the Hunters, like the men you met the other night? You wish to slay vampires and other demons as part of your job?" Adams spoke slowly, as if to be perfectly clear he wasn't misunderstanding the man in front of him.

"That is correct, yes."

"Pratt, is this because you staked one? Because as I understand it, that was really more luck than anything else. I don't know if you've forgotten, but you aren't exactly what one would call a skilled fighter. The general assumption is that Hunters are mindless brutes, more brawn than brain if you will, half crazed. Many believe they chase after demons for a thrill, but it doesn't mean that what they do is easy. They put their lives in danger, Pratt, every second. You must understand that."

"I do. It's why I desire to become one."

Adams leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. He seemed to take a few moments to process this information, studying the man sitting before him a little more closely. William was more determined than when he'd announced he wanted to be a Watcher. He'd already made his mind up about it. Adams seemed to realize this.

"Well, you're a curious one, that's certain. All right, if that's what you want. I'm not certain I understand, but I can arrange for you to meet with them again. You'll be placed under their supervision and they'll be responsible for training you. The only conclusion I can come to is that you've gone mad, in which case, you'll fit right in, won't you."

William relaxed at the news that he was going to be allowed to meet with the Hunters again. Now, he just had to prove to them that he was up to the task. Adams shook his head and let out a low chuckle. When William nodded, and made to stand up Adams held out a hand.

"Pratt, I admire your—enthusiasm, or whatever this is, but I really hope you understand what you're involving yourself in here. Don't do anything stupid, understand?"

"I'll try my best, sir," William answered, rising and making his way to the door.

He nodded once more as he left, closing the door behind him gently, catching sight of Adams rubbing his head and exhaling heavily as he did so.

Just through the door, William could hear Adams muttering "Mad bastard." William smirked.

"Why are we here again?" Hobbs asked Gray, as he took another gulp of whisky.

"I told you, I don't know. Roth said to meet him here. He has some interesting news for us," Gray answered, eyeing the door.

"It had better not be more Council trainees. We've filled our quota of those for the week."

Gray didn't bother answering Hobbs, as at that moment he spotted Roth shoving through the crowd. There was someone behind him, but Gray couldn't make out who it was in the throng of people. Roth reached them at last, a wry grin on his face.

"What are you smiling about?" Hobbs asked, irritably.

"Oh, nothing, just have a surprise for you is all. Certainly been a surprise for everyone else," Roth answered, ignoring Hobbs' fed up glare.

"Care to elaborate?" Gray asked, curious.

"Well it seems these little training sessions aren't a complete waste of time after all. Got someone here who wants to join you boys, become a Hunter."

"What?" both men couldn't help asking.

Roth stepped to the side. His grin got even wider as he took in their stunned faces.

"Boys, meet your new recruit. I trust you'll train him up good and proper, get yourselves an expert Hunter in no time, won't you?" Roth said winking.

"Willie-boy?" Gray asked astounded.

Hobbs was gaping like a fish. William smiled nervously and nodded at the men, straightening up a bit.

"Hello again," he said.

"You want to become a Hunter?" Hobbs asked, deadpan.

"Yes. I know it's unusual, but—" William started to say when Hobbs scoffed.

"Bloody right it's unusual! You mean after everything you saw that night, after nearly being killed by a vampire, you want to learn to be one of us? You want to go out and battle those things every night? Are you insane, or just bloody stupid?"

"That's what we've all been wondering. It's probably both," Roth said, lowering himself onto a stool.

"I told you there was a bit of Hunter in him," Gray said, slipping back into his casual demeanour as quickly as he'd been startled out of it, turning back to his drink.

"Oh, so this is you saying 'I told you so' is it? As if you expected to see him again," Hobbs replied, gruffly.

Gray just smirked then kicked a stool out towards William and nodded at it.

"Well, sit down then. Let's hear all about this decision of yours to become one of us, so we can get down to the business of training you." He grinned at William as he sat down.

"We'll probably be needing a drink for the telling of this story," Roth suggested, innocently.

"Or perhaps two," William added, with a grin.

Hobbs rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, ordering another round for all of them. Looking at William, he actually offered a grudging smile when William asked for whisky. Gray caught William's eye and winked.

William did his best to ignore the odd fluttering sensation in his stomach, caused by nerves and excitement, as he breathed in the smell of wood and hay, along with the pungent odor of horses. They were in an empty stable, hidden away in one of the poorer parts of town.

"All right," Hobbs' voice echoed into the rafters, "You want to be a Hunter, so today you're going to learn how to fight like a Hunter. This will not be easy. It will be painful, it will be hard, and it will make you want to give up. What's more, I'll be doing my best to _make_ you give up." Hobbs said, as he removed his coat then his waistcoat, followed by his shirt, so he was standing in his undershirt and trousers.

Hobbs sat on a wooden stool to remove his shoes and socks, while Gray and William leaned against a stall. Gray glanced at William and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Come on then, let's get this started."

William removed his glasses and coat, and proceeded to remove clothing until he was also in just his undershirt and trousers. He walked to the centre of the room with Hobbs, where the two proceeded to face off.

"Now, the first thing you need to learn is—" Hobbs said, then darted forward and punched William solidly in the gut.

Gray winced as William bent over double, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath, his face red and tears stinging his eyes from the shocking pain crippling him. He looked up at Hobbs, his vision a little blurred, still choking for air.

"Always expect the unexpected, and always be prepared," Hobbs finished, as he stared down at William, flexing his fingers. "You never know when one of those creatures will sneak up on you or what attack they'll use. It won't always be fangs you'll have to fend off. Vampires are excellent fighters, as are most demons, and they're a great deal stronger than I am, so you'll be wanting to avoid hits like that. They're also sneaky bastards, and tend to spring an attack when they feel you're unprepared. It's your job to make sure that you're never unprepared."

When William could breathe again, he straightened, wincing as the effort pulled at his tender stomach. This was most definitely not like the Council training, where each move was given a name and announced before being practiced methodically, with plenty of padding between a Watcher and the weapons. This was brutal and violent, and exactly what he needed to learn. He adopted the fighting stance he'd been taught, keeping his guard up with his fists, legs spread a little, and faced off with Hobbs again. The other man began to circle him slowly, bouncing a little on his feet. William moved with him, turning to keep him in sight.

"Demons use strategy, like any good fighter. The problem with you is, you've been trained with nothing _but_ strategy. All those fancy moves they describe to you aren't much good unless you know how to use them. You have to learn about power, when to use it, and how to avoid it, before those techniques will be much good. Otherwise—"

Hobbs darted in again with a left hook aimed for William's jaw. William moved to block it, only for Hobbs to kick William in the side with his right leg, tilting him off balance. This was followed with a left punch to the face, hitting William in the nose and dropping him to the ground. He tasted blood and spat it out, squeezed his eyes shut at the throbbing pain, then rose to his knees slowly, blinking to clear his focus before shakily standing again.

"You'll be put down easily with the basics."

William wiped the blood away from his face and stared back at Hobbs again, readopting his fighting stance. Hobbs smirked and looked William up and down then advanced again. William didn't move. Hobbs raised his fists and aimed a right hook at William. William dodged and threw a left punch of his own. Hobbs caught his fist and brought a knee up, connecting with William's gut again. William was forced forward by the blow. Hobbs grabbed him by his braces and tossed him across the room where he slammed into one of the support beams.

He leaned against the beam, dazed, before shouting in pain as Hobbs landed a punch to his kidney. His fist was like a hammer. William tried to elbow him in the face. Hobbs dodged, grabbed William's arm and pulled back, spinning him round. William stumbled backwards, but regained his balance. Hobbs advanced on him quickly. When William tried to punch the man again, he was caught by an uppercut to his jaw. In the next instant his legs were swept out from under him and he hit the ground hard. He coughed, and spat out more blood. His body was aching all over.

"Had enough yet?" Hobbs asked.

William just lay there, feeling the pain overwhelm him. He'd never been in a proper fight before, and now he was very glad of that fact. He could never have suffered through a beating like this before, which was one of the things he needed to change. Hobbs turned to Grey who was observing them silently.

"Reckon he's got an idea what he's letting himself in for now?" he asked, grinning.

Grey opened his mouth, then stopped and smirked, looking over Hobbs' shoulder.

"What?" Hobbs asked, turning.

His head flew back, teeth clacking together from the force of the punch William had thrown, a punch that connected solidly with the other man's jaw. Hobbs held his bruised jaw, eyes widening when he realized that his lip had been split. He stared at William in shock. William was bruised, bloody, and a complete mess, shaking from the effort of standing, but his face was set in hard determination.

"Always be prepared. Never let your guard down," he said, staring Hobbs in the eye.

Gray burst out laughing. Hobbs glared at him then chuckled himself. He stood up straight and approached William again, noticing the man's more cautious stance, following his every move with his eyes.

"True enough. Applies to everyone," he said, waiting, biding his time, circling slowly.

William waited tensely. He knew the hit was coming, just not when or how. Gray perked up, interested in the fight. It was becoming more enjoyable with every second. Hobbs continued to circle William slowly, steadily, then pounced. Instead of punching or kicking, he grabbed William in a headlock and brought him to his knees. One meaty arm wrapped around his neck, the other behind his head, forcing him forward, keeping pressure on his throat, crushing his windpipe. William turned purple, his arms flailing and clawing at Hobbs trying desperately to break his hold.

"That was a good move boy, but you still have a hell of a lot to learn, make no mistake about that. Luckily for you, you're going to learn from the best. I'll toughen you up and Gray will teach you all about agility, and how to dodge attacks. When you have the basics down we might consider bringing you to the club where you can really learn to fight, in the ring with other Hunters. Get you the practice and skill needed for you to survive out in the big bad world with all those beasties," Hobbs said, cheerily, never breaking his hold on William.

William spluttered and choked. The strength began leaving his arms as his air supply remained cut off. Black spots were beginning to dance and sway in front of his eyes. He could feel his muscles beginning to slacken. With a parting squeeze, Hobbs released him.

William collapsed to the ground, sucking in a huge gulp of air, wheezing and gasping, rubbing his sore throat which was sure to be badly bruised. Tears were streaming down his face and he blinked furiously to clear his vision, panting. After a few moments, he could feel the steady flow of air entering and leaving his lungs again.

Hobbs walked back to where he'd left his clothes and began buttoning up his shirt.

"Unless of course you want to quit, in which case you return home or to the Council and forget this whole crazy notion about being one of us," he said.

William crawled back to the stool by one of the empty stalls where he had left his clothes, and used it to help him sit up before proceeding to dress himself. He pulled on his shirt and coat, not bothering with the waistcoat or buttons just yet, and sat there, leaning back against the side of the stall, still barefoot and exhausted. He looked at Hobbs firmly.

"No," he rasped.

Gray grinned and headed over to the little table near Hobbs where they had left a bottle of Scotch and three glasses. Hobbs kept his gaze on William, taking in his beaten body and hard eyes.

"You really don't know when to give up, do you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Gray handed Hobbs a glass of Scotch, which the man accepted absentmindedly. He then made his way over to William. William glanced up at the glass held out in front of him then took it gratefully. Gray smiled and leaned back against the stall, sipping at his own glass. William swallowed the fiery liquid, rubbing his sore throat as it burned its way down his insides then leaned his head back against the solid wood once more.

"Quitting in this line of work means dying, and that's not something I intend to do just yet."

"Well, at least you have the right attitude. Get your breath back and recover; go home, have a rest then we can work out your training schedule. Hobbs and I will still have to patrol, and I don't think you should go out again until we're certain you can defend yourself. Fighting isn't the only skill you have to learn. We'll also have to teach you how to use contacts. There are people who know about demons and use the knowledge to keep clear of them. They're the ones who give us the information on where to find them, so we know about any new arrivals in town. There are also areas best left alone. Places rife with demons that humans should steer clear of all together, even Hunters," Gray explained.

William nodded and finished his drink.

"I know what you think of me, but I know this won't be easy and I'm not expecting it to be. I want to help people, and I can do that if I become a Hunter, regardless of the danger to me."

"I admire your choice Willie-boy," Gray answered, knocking back his own drink.

"Please don't call me that."

"What? Willie-boy?"

"Yes, that. It just sounds—condescending."

"Well, _William_ sounds very Council like to me. Don't think I fancy calling you that either," Gray said, with a shrug.

"William is a perfectly good name," William retorted.

"Of course it is. Very proper, very gentleman-like," Gray replied, with a smirk.

"Well, then call me—Will instead," William said, irritated.

"Hmm, Will. All right then, Will it is. Welcome to the fold, Will. Oh and best get used to a few cuts and bruises. You'll have to be careful to hide the worst of that before you're seen out and about looking like you've been in the wars by anyone you know. We sadly don't get the benefits of quick healing that the Slayer does. Or the strength or the speed…bloody hell we really are mad to be doing this, aren't we, Hobbs?"

"Goddamn right we are. Will there is the craziest of all," Hobbs said, re-filling his glass.

"True enough. That's why I admire you so damn much, Will," Gray said, walking over to take the bottle from Hobbs.

"Why, because I belong in Bedlam? That's not usually something to admire."

"You chose to do this. You want to help people, and you don't think you can achieve that with the Watchers. Not many—hell none of them, have seen it quite like that before. I can't think of many Hunters who do this for the reasons you want to. They're either raised to be Hunters, or got forced into it because they had a run-in with demons and it's left them with nothing else," Gray answered, walking back to re-fill Will's glass as well as his own.

"So, what about you both? Why did you get into it?" Will asked, accepting the now full glass gladly.

Hobbs and Gray shared a sad glance, communicating silently. Gray sighed and gestured to Hobbs.

"You first, old boy."

Hobbs kept his eyes on Gray a second longer then nodded. He took another gulp of Scotch and put his glass back on the table. Resting his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his hands together before looking over at William and Gray opposite him again.

"Well, I was one of those that was raised a Hunter. My father was one. Never really found out how he got into it. He said it was something best kept buried, so I know it wasn't good. Since I was a child I've known what was out there. Heard all the usual stories of course; the ones parents tell their children so they'll behave and won't venture outside alone at night. Only my father made damn certain I knew they weren't just stories. He'd be out every night, hunting. I'd see him pack up this bag, full of weapons he kept hidden about the house, and head off outside. He wouldn't be back until just before dawn."

Hobbs cleared his throat before continuing, "My mother worried about him something awful. She fretted over me too, because she knew what was coming. He taught me to defend myself, how to fight. Normally something you'd learn to make sure you weren't bullied. That wasn't his purpose though, even if it did come in handy. About the time I turned ten, he decided to take me to one of the Hunter clubs. Secret locations where local Hunters gather to plan kills, get information on the beasties in town, and to brawl with other Hunters to keep in shape. It fascinated me." Hobbs took on a faraway look as he returned to his memories, the barest trace of a smile on his face.

"He was a brilliant fighter, he was. I told him I wanted to be just like him, and he gave me this look, like he was proud and sad at the same time. He brought me there a lot after that, until I knew I was going to be a Hunter too. I learned as much about the trade as I could. Soon as I hit seventeen he brought me out with him. Saw my very first vampire. Frightened the life out of me, but he killed it, and I realized then they're vulnerable too. We can kill them with a bit of sharp wood. I got over the fear, for the most part, made myself forget about it, and doubled my training. I was setting myself up to be a great Hunter."

Hobbs grew quiet, staring off into the distance, as if he was lost in the memory. William sat silently, waiting for him to continue, not wanting to break whatever spell Hobbs was currently under as he looked at his past. He swallowed and blinked, coming back to them, grabbing his glass again and cradling it in his hands.

"He was killed soon after. Suvolte demon got him. I swore I'd get revenge, and I did. Only thing was, the demon didn't much care. They don't really pay attention to who they kill or vendettas. I was another idiot human threatening him, 'cept this time it died. After that I made sure I would kill any demons I came across to do my father proud. I think about him sometimes, and I wonder if he would be. I keep seeing that look on his face, proud, but sad. I think he'd be sad." Hobbs coughed and downed his drink, hissing as it burned down his throat. "Well, that's me. Gray, your turn."

William watched as Hobbs brushed back whatever he'd been thinking about and retreated back to his usual gruff exterior. He wondered if he ever thought about what he might have been if hunting hadn't been a part of his life. It seemed it was all he'd ever known. Gray crossed one leg in front of the other as he leaned against the stall beside William, holding his glass in one hand and trailing a finger around the rim as he stared into its amber contents.

"I'm one of those who got forced into it by circumstance. Five years ago, I knew no more about demons than you did before the Council came to you. I just minded my own business and kept to my own affairs. I was engaged to a beautiful woman, and living in blissful ignorance with no real purpose or direction to my life. One vamp attack later and all that changed." Gray's voice got quieter and William had to strain to hear him.

"I was attending a lavish garden party at a country estate with my family and my fiancée. Typical showy event to prove how much wealthier your host was than you. Nightfall came, and so did they. About ten vampires tore through the garden, killing anyone they came across. They'd heard about the function and figured it was a quiet enough area for them to carry out a massacre unnoticed. It was like setting the wolves among the sheep. Men went for the guns in the house but they don't do much to a vampire. It was a slaughter. Hunters came then. They'd heard about the attack but didn't make it in time to save many of us. Five or six people survived when they finally got rid of them. My family were dead. So was my fiancée." Gray drank down the contents of his glass and instantly re-filled it.

William had no words. What did you say to a man who'd lost everything? The people he'd loved were gone. Taken from him by monsters he hadn't thought existed. If anything, it made William want to be a Hunter even more. Maybe there were people out there he could help, by preventing something like that from happening to anyone else. Both of these men had been through traumatic ordeals and now had no other way of living because of their experiences. He was beginning to understand why Hunters were thought to be brutal and crass. They had no reason to be polite for society's sake. There were more important things at stake.

"Wasn't anything left for me after that, so I found out about the Hunters, joined the organization, and here we are. Been performing my duty ever since." Gray finished his story, having kept himself emotionally detached through the entire telling of it.

William began to see Gray from a new perspective. The man was relaxed and casual, but maybe that was because all he had left was hunting, and he spent the rest of his time waiting to kill something. Maybe he was waiting for the day when he wouldn't be lucky, and he could join the people he'd lost, but in the meantime he'd take down as many of the creatures as he could. It gave William pause, to think the likeable man might be waiting to die.

"Will."

"What?" William looked up, realizing he'd gotten lost in his musings. Gray smiled at him.

"Go home and rest. You have a long road ahead of you and it won't do much good to start the trek exhausted and beaten."

William nodded and winced at the ache in his neck, having forgotten how bruised it was.

"Better do as he says, boy," Hobbs added. "I have no intention of going easy on you next time."

William blinked.

_Going easy on me?_


	5. Encounter

**Encounter**

_London 1880_

_September_

Will returned his journal to its hiding spot and locked the drawer once more, placing the key on top of the wardrobe. Those early days of his training were still fresh in his mind.

Many more brutal fighting sessions with Hobbs had occurred before he had begun to learn how to use a man's own strength against him and avoid his blows. Gray had been a little more difficult to contend with. He used speed and skill to his advantage to gain the upper hand and evade his opponent's every strike. Eventually, Will caught on to that too.

They took him to many Club meetings where he learned how to network in order to gain information about possible targets. He also entered the sparring matches held there, and soon climbed to the top of the leader board, much to the annoyance of Hunters who had been training their entire lives. Will had a lot of enemies in those early days, always seen as the Council snob who fancied himself a tough guy. Only after proving himself to them in the ring, and on the battlefield at night, did they grudgingly accept him. He earned the respect and admiration of the Hunters on his own, knowing Gray and Hobbs couldn't defend him if he ever wanted to be accepted on his own merit.

He learned the town anew; every abandoned building, back alley, twisting street, and dead end were ingrained in his memory, allowing him to move through London swiftly on patrol and locate the demon hot-spots. After some initial fear when out hunting those first few nights, he learned how to channel his adrenaline into a fight. Will discovered a flair for battling a supernatural being with greater strength and ability than his own. It intrigued and terrified him. He loved the fight, almost disappointed when the final blow was made, but kept such feelings to himself. It was why they thought he was reckless and mad, the way he jumped into a brawl when he might have used stealth to his advantage and defeated his quarry from a distance. He wasn't sure why he preferred to do it the hard way, only that it felt more like the way a warrior should fight, in close quarters instead of striking when hidden from afar.

Will got ready for bed and was pleased to note that his wounds were healing nicely. Another day or two and he should be strong enough to begin the hunt for Angelus and his entourage. His chest wound no longer ached and the burn on his leg was slowly fading. He would have a long night tomorrow at the Hunter gathering, and he knew there would be arguments.

Many Hunters preferred to stay out of the way of notorious creatures like the Aurelius clan, while others wanted the glory of bringing these pests their final death. He knew they would bring up the Slayer, asking why the Council didn't send her here to face the monsters she should be fighting. Hunting was what they did, and they would have to get used to facing the elite of the evil that they fought against without a Slayer around. They had to protect the people, because if they didn't, no one else would. With these thoughts in his head, Will crawled into bed and fell asleep sooner than he expected.

A fog was rolling in as the Hunters filed into the large barn on the outskirts of town. It added to the tense atmosphere amongst the men inside, whispering together, discussing the latest reports of the alarming increase in the number of vampire victims of late. It was clear that the three famous vampires had taken up residence in London and were making themselves at home.

The moon was large and almost full in the darkened sky, illuminating the misty countryside around the barn, and making it glow an eerie greenish yellow. Will was leaning against a fence watching men as they entered. Most of them had shown their faces tonight. They were scared. Afraid of the new threat, and hoping someone would know how to save them from a gruesome death. The Aurelians were known to torture before killing their prey, murdering for fun, and with a twisted sense of art. A man approached Will from amongst the stragglers coming up the path. He was short and walked with a limp. Will recognized him as one of the few older Hunters who focused on gathering information and training recruits now that his fighting days were behind him. He joined Will by the fence, watching the late arrivals disappear in through the doors.

"Not often that Hunters have to band together like this anymore. Was beginning to think we might have settled things down for a while," he commented.

"That was foolishly optimistic of you," Will murmured.

The other man laughed and shook his head, picking at his coat.

"It was at that. Don't know what I was thinking of. Been at this long enough to know it never gets easier. Suppose I just sort of hoped it might. Would make all this, everything these men and ourselves have been doing, seem worthwhile."

"Can't argue with a desire to hope. It won't ever be easier, but maybe the fact that you had that hope to begin with, after everything you've witnessed in your life, is enough to prove that it _is _all worthwhile. If we manage to get rid of the reason we're gathered here tonight, that should definitely prove how necessary it is."

They stood in silence for a minute. One of the large barn doors was closed, all the men having arrived at last. The mist was thickening, and Will realized a heavy fog was rolling in, quickly diminishing the light of the moon and casting a shadow over the two men and the barn before them. Will's companion spat on the ground and straightened himself up.

"Well, I suppose we best get in there before the meeting starts without us."

Will nodded, shivering when the cold and clammy tendrils of fog encircled him, chilling his skin through his clothes. He wrapped his long brown coat tightly around himself and followed the shorter man to the barn, his breath blowing past his face like smoke in the cold night air.

Inside, it was considerably warmer, the packed bodies and hay generating enough heat to combat the chilly country air. A makeshift stage had been set up at the far end of the barn where Clive Woollam-Evans stood, speaking with two other men who had their backs to the group. He was the Head of the Hunters in the London district. Unfortunately, this also meant he was in close contact with the Council. Like the Council leaders, his role was to sit behind a desk in a comfortable office and send men out to eliminate whatever threat they were facing at that time with very little regard or consideration for them. He saw their deaths as inconveniences rather than tragedies, and thus was not very well liked by his employees.

Will found a spot next to Hobbs leaning against a side wall. Gray was chatting with some other Hunters seated a few rows ahead of them. Satisfied that everyone was accounted for, Woollam-Evans gestured for everyone to return to their seats and called for order. The murmuring died down as he gained the men's attention, holding both hands in the air as he waited for absolute silence. With all eyes trained on him, he began to pace a little across the small stage, beginning his speech.

"Gentlemen, I am sure that by now you are all aware of the arrival of the Aurelius clan in London, just as I am sure you have heard of the increase in deaths across the city, including the number of Hunters who have been killed recently. You have been gathered here for two reasons. One is to discuss a suitable means of combating this threat. The second is to discover the source of the false information that has caused the deaths of these Hunters."

The murmuring started again, hasty whispers that grew in volume as the men recounted the number of rumors they had heard, each hurrying to inform the others of their own stories about the traps hunters had fallen into. Will spotted a few men glancing over at him as they spoke, and knew that word of his own narrow escape had spread.

"You're popular," Hobbs mumbled out of the corner of his mouth to Will, as he too noticed the attention turning their way.

"What else is new? My reputation is going to get me in trouble one of these days," Will answered.

"I think it already has." Hobbs nodded at Woollam-Evans who was now looking at Will with narrowed eyes.

Both men squirmed a little, not liking the attention they were getting. Will had a feeling Woollam-Evans was going to be calling on him to voice his opinion soon, and he wasn't looking forward to it. While he had no qualms about sharing what he knew or suspected, Woollam-Evans was not Will's biggest fan, and while reluctant to put the spotlight on Will, would no doubt use the opportunity to belittle him as much as possible.

"I see most of you have heard about Mr. Pratt's close call a few nights ago," Woollam-Evans said, still facing Will. "He is the one who brought the Scourge of Europe's presence to our attention. He is also one of the first Hunters to have fallen into the trap they'd laid out for us. Mr. Pratt, perhaps you would care to share your experience with us for those who may not have heard it." Woollam-Evans gestured for Will to approach the stage, his condescending voice and the cold look in his eyes belying the friendly smile straining his mouth.

Will sighed and straightened up as he pushed himself off the wall and made his way past the rows of Hunters eyeing him on his way to the stage. Things had gone quiet in the barn once more, Will's footfalls and the occasional stifled cough the only noise upsetting the silent expectancy. He took his place next to Woollam-Evans, who gave him a scathing glance before turning back to face their audience. Will's eyes turned to meet those of the crowd, some his friends, others reluctant colleagues, and most indifferent to him altogether. He licked his lips and folded his arms as he addressed them, aware of Hobbs and Gray's eyes on him, but refusing to meet their gaze.

"I don't know what more I can tell you, since I'm sure most of you have heard about my little encounter already, but on the off chance you haven't, here it is. I was taking a Watcher recruit out with me to hunt down some fledglings who our contacts informed us would be in the area. It wasn't first-hand information, and so far we haven't been able to trace it back to a specific person. When we arrived, it was clear that these were no newly risen vampires. It was Angelus, Darla, and Drusilla, the Scourge of Europe, and three of the most notorious vampires in our records." Will scanned the captivated crowd before him.

"My interaction with them was minimal. They were gathered at one end of a narrow alley, while we entered from the other. They set their minions on us and left. It was an unexpected turn of events but I managed to get the boy out alive. We spread the word about the false information. Unfortunately, it didn't spread quickly enough to prevent some of the other deaths the past few nights. The message they were sending was clear. They have moved in here, and they have no intention of leaving anytime soon. No Hunter is going to stop them. We have to make sure we _do_ stop them, or more people are going to die, more of our friends, more of our colleagues, and more innocents who aren't even aware of the danger."

Woollam-Evans cut in, staring at Will haughtily. "Yes, we are aware we need to put a stop to these vermin, but first we need to clarify that it's them. You are quite positive they are the vampires you witnessed that night? If it was a darkened alley, isn't it possible you were mistaken?"

"You mean the acts of torture and twisted forms of 'art' found at the site of the murders aren't proof enough for you? Those are Angelus' calling cards." Will didn't even blink as he answered the man, just loud enough for their audience to hear.

Woollam-Evans' eyes narrowed even further; there were a few murmurs of agreement and one or two hushed comments about the brutal acts. Will stared back at his superior before continuing, his voice as steady as when he first began speaking.

"They matched the description we have of them, and I identified them from photographs in Council records. I heard the maniacal giggling of the dark-haired vampiress, which makes it more than likely that she is Drusilla, the woman Angelus drove to insanity before turning her. I also heard the Irish accent of the male when he spoke."

"He spoke?" One Hunter in the crowd asked, curiously. "What did he say?"

Every eye in the barn turned to Will. He swallowed once, quickly, remembering the smile on the vampire's face as his gaze locked with Will's in the alley. He had seemed amused and curious as he studied the man before him.

"He said, 'So you're what all the fuss is about? I have to say I don't really see what has them so worked up. Besides, you'll be dead in a few minutes. All you Hunters will die soon.' Their minions surrounded us then, and he left with his women. It was definitely a trap, and it was definitely the Aurelius clan."

The man who had spoken looked down at the floor. Things had gone quiet again. The atmosphere in the barn had shifted—from one of agitation to fear. The threat Angelus had made lingered over them, and they had heard it from Will. He heard it straight from the horse's mouth, and at the time it seemed more than just a threat. It was practically a promise. Woollam-Evans broke the silence.

"Fine. So we've established it's truly them. What we need is a plan." He turned back to his audience again, dismissing Will as if he was no longer even standing there. "We must eliminate them. The Scourge of Europe has reigned long enough. It is time to put an end to their unspeakable acts of murder."

"And jus' how are we s'posed to do that then?" A Hunter from the back stood up, all eyes turning to him. "Wha' 'bout the Slayer? Ain' it her calling to protect the innocent? How come she ain' here fightin' 'em?"

There were several cheers and shouts of agreement as angry and questioning faces turned toward the stage. Will bent his head and sighed. This was what he had been waiting for. The outrage, brought on by years of resentment toward the Council. They had a right to be angry he supposed, but the accusations, and threats, and complaining weren't going to get them anywhere.

"No doubt, if the Slayer were here she would, but she is not, and I'm assured that she is in a location that requires her presence. She is fighting evil as she has been called to do in the area that needs her assistance the most. She is but one girl. It would be much more beneficial if there were a Slayer for every country in the world, but there isn't, and so it falls to us to—" Woollam-Evans was cut off mid-speech by more outraged Hunters rising to their feet in protest.

"Oh really? It's up to us because she's too busy to deal with it? These are vampires who have been on the Council's most wanted list for a while now, aren't they? And you're telling us they aren't dangerous enough to warrant her attention?"

"Places in need of her assistance more?" Another Hunter spoke up. "Haven't they heard about the deaths? How many Hunters have died lately? Not to mention there's someone working against us, leading us into these traps. How do we know it's not the Council behind it? They never wanted us around in the first place, but they had no choice than to employ us. How do we know they aren't trying to get rid of us now?"

"That is preposterous. The Council hires us because we fight evil, just as the Slayer does. It's their job to uphold the balance and keep evil at bay. They aren't trying to kill off their allies." Woollam-Evans raised his arms for order, his voice growing louder.

Will rubbed a hand over his face as he listened to the bickering continue. More protests, shouts, and jeers, and Woollam-Evans arguing his point in defense of the Council.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, as the noise became deafening.

"How do you know? You aren't as privy to their intent as you'd like to think you are. Or maybe you do know what's going on. How do we know you aren't a part of it?" One Hunter argued, glaring at Woollam-Evans who couldn't help taking a step back at the furious looks now turning his way.

Will had heard enough. Things were spiraling out of control and they would do nothing but fight among themselves all night. He slammed a fist down on the small table in front of him and the sudden noise had the desired effect. The men silenced in an instant, and all eyes fell on him.

"That's enough! We are not here to throw accusations at each other. We are here to figure out a way to put a stop to these vampires. If we do nothing but fight amongst ourselves, they've already won. Can't you see that? What do you think Angelus gained by setting minions on us and causing fear in our ranks? He wants us to fall apart. He wants us to think he finds us insignificant, and we're falling for it!"

"Aren't we?" One hesitant voice spoke up, and the crowd turned to the young Hunter, now glancing around nervously at all the attention, swallowing before voicing his question to Will again. "Insignificant I mean? Aren't we? To him?"

They turned back to the stage, awaiting Will's answer. He leveled them with a hard gaze, keeping his voice even and confidant when he replied.

"No. We aren't. The proof is in the act of hunting us down the way he has. He wants to frighten us, true, and he can kill us without a second thought, we know that. But if we really mean so little to him, he wouldn't be trying so hard to make us doubt ourselves. Facts are facts, gentlemen. We face three fearsome vampires, but they face dozens, upon dozens of us. Separated as we have been, we are easy kills, but if we can work together to divide them, we have the upper hand." William spoke in earnest now, his confidence growing.

"It comes down to numbers. There are more of us, and as long as we use that to our advantage, we do stand a chance, and a damn good one at that. Individually, we have taken down demons much stronger than vampires. Together we can defeat them, but not if we continue to bicker like this instead of working out an actual plan."

There was silence for a few seconds as they processed what Will had just told them.

"Hear, hear!"

The solitary voice spurred the men into action again, and soon there were more cheers and a few men started clapping. Will caught Gray's eyes and nodded in acknowledgment of his friend's supportive grin. Woollam-Evans rolled his eyes and took a step away from Will in annoyance. Of course, not everyone was ready to agree with Will's assessment of the situation.

A nasal sounding voice spoke up from the crowd. "Very inspiring speech, Pratt. Of course, it's not so long ago you were one of the hopeful little Watcher recruits yourself. You act as though you're thinking of us, but what if you're just protecting the Council? You seem awfully eager to stop us accusing them."

Will knew the man who had spoken and was grinding his teeth in frustration at the idiot's stupidity. He was one of those who still refused to accept Will as a Hunter, and was mistrustful of him because of his origins, despite the numerous times Will had proven himself. He practically growled a response, clenching his hands, restraining himself from rushing over and punching some sense into the git.

"What I _want_ is to focus our attention on what matters. I am one of you, and probably have less contact with the Council than you do at this stage. Not to mention, I was one of the first Hunters to fall into their trap. You're accusing me of protecting people who tried to kill me?"

"You're the only one to have made it out of one of those traps so far."

"I was lucky. I don't like where you're going with this. I was one of the ones who arranged this meeting, and I informed you all about the bloody trap. I don't think I deserve to be accused of anything nefarious. As for the Council, no, I don't think they're behind it. I would be first on board should the Slayer be sent here, but she won't be and we're all just going to have to accept it and make adjustments. We made this our fight when we became Hunters, and it's our duty to protect the innocent as much as it is the Slayer's, but so far we're doing a piss-poor job of it. I hate to admit this, but I agree with Mr. Woollam-Evans that the Council aren't trying to kill their allies."

That earned him a sideways look fromWoollam-Evans, but he was too busy glaring at the buffoon trying to stare him down to bother to acknowledge him. A different Hunter broke the silence, but he was another one of those who seemed intent on displaying his resentment for the Council instead of trying to come up with anything remotely helpful.

"The Council don't care about us. They don't care how many of us die. We're beneath them, that's all we are. Angelus and his ilk could kill a hundred of us tomorrow and not one of them would care."

"Why wait until tomorrow?"

The noise in the barn came to an abrupt halt as they tried to pinpoint the speaker. Will's blood ran cold at the sound. He knew that voice. His eyes joined the others in darting about the room, trying to locate the source. The owner of the voice spoke again, and this time they realized it was coming from the hayloft above the back of the barn.

"There's that sayin' after all. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. I've always thought that to be sound advice."

A figure emerged from the shadows. Will froze in place. There were gasps from the crowd as recognition dawned on the Hunters. Woollam-Evans clutched at the little table. Everyone stared up at the reason they were gathered here. Angelus smiled down at them all, raising his hands out by his sides and chuckling to himself.

"Look at you all. All huddled together because of me. Makes a fella feel so…appreciated." He began to pace along the hayloft, watching them. "So feared. All wondering who it is that wants ye dead. Doesn't matter much. All that counts is that I'm going to kill each and every Hunter here, as well as anyone in London who gets in my way. Heh, let's be honest, I'll more'n likely kill anyone I come across, in my way or not."

Several hands reached for concealed stakes and other weapons as they began to break free of their shock. Will grabbed a stake from his coat, but Angelus' laughter gave him pause. This vampire was no fool, and yet he'd stepped into a room full of Hunters without a care. Something was off here.

"Don't be hasty now, gentlemen. Try anything, and you'll be dead before we can have a decent chat."

"Scum! You dare to come here and threaten us? You're outnumbered! If anyone dies tonight it will be you!" One Hunter shouted, aiming a crossbow at the amused vampire and firing.

The bolt shot free, headed directly for its target's heart. Angelus quickly side-stepped and shot his hand out, turning away from them for a split-second. When he faced them once more, he held the crossbow bolt in one hand, while with the other, he brushed a long lock of dark hair away from his face. He tilted his head at the hunter in a "you should know better" gesture, right before snapping the bolt in half and letting it fall to the ground.

"Now, now boys. Let's not be unpleasant. I only came to see what sort of an organization you've arranged here." He paused and stared directly at Will. "After all, I've heard some great things about ye. Or terrible things, depending on your point of view I guess. No. No, great things. I don't much care for any of the demons you've killed."

"What are you doing here?" Will spoke for the first time since seeing the vamp.

Angelus' cold eyes were boring a hole into Will, as though searching for something in him, perhaps his soul.

"Well, you see, Will. I heard about your little get together and since it was me you lads were discussin', I thought it fittin' that I should be in attendance, despite the lack of an invitation. Then again, I don't really need one to enter the home of animals," Angelus sneered. "Before you go thinkin' of performing some foolish act of heroic bravery, I'll let you know that I have minions set up around the perimeter. You fellas are nicely penned in here. Now, I just had to come and see what condition you were in after escapin' the trap we had set for you. I have'ta say, I was impressed. I guess all those rumors I was hearin' about you weren't just rumors after all."

"So what's it to be, Angelus? You want to try killing me yourself, since your minions weren't enough?" Will asked, steadily, gripping his stake a little tighter, ignoring the anxious glances of his friends.

Angelus glared at Will angrily. "Don't insult me boy. You think you're worthy to battle me? I'd drain you dry in an instant. Those were foolhardy fledges. I am much more dangerous. I'll tell you what though, if you get out of this one alive, I'll consider givin' you a real fight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Will didn't like this.

Angelus just smiled again and started backing up into the shadows.

"Boys, if you will!" Angelus shouted, as he vanished into the blackness.

"Everyone out!" Will called, and leaped off the stage to head for the door.

Those nearest the exit turned and were met with yellow eyes, moments before fangs pierced their necks. There were startled shouts as the Hunters saw their comrades tossed to the ground, still bleeding, while the bloody faces of their attackers grinned back at them and hauled the door shut. They ran towards it but it held firm, and they heard the locks sliding into place outside. Will stopped in his tracks and looked around.

"Find another way out!" he shouted.

Gray and Hobbs tried to force their way through the crowd towards him. There were startled cries as men started backing up to the middle of the barn, away from a sudden smell of smoke and the crackle of burning wood. Flames began licking up the walls and across the floor, quickly igniting and spreading across the hay.

"They're going to burn us alive!"

"God in heaven, we're all going to die here!"

"We're trapped!"

Panic quickly set in and the group became a frightened mob, pushing and shoving at each other, searching for a way out and backing away from the fire, regardless of the people around them. Men fell to the floor, trampled by the throng of men in the grip of fear. Will was shoved sideways and barely managed to remain upright. A tortured scream rent the air and the crowd parted briefly to reveal a man on fire, screaming for help as his clothes and flesh burned and melted. Some men found a trough and started hauling buckets of water out in a desperate attempt to quench the inferno. The heat was building rapidly, becoming stifling and unbearable. Smoke began to thicken, blinding them and choking their lungs.

"One trough won't be any use!"

"God help us!"

"I don't want to die!"

More screams. The smoke was a black fog now. Shadowy shapes moved through it, an orange glow flickering in the background as the fire continued to rage.

"Will!"

Will coughed and held his arm up in front of his mouth, trying desperately not to breathe in any more smoke, his lungs already burning. His eyes stung and he couldn't see. His name was called again, closer this time. Hobbs emerged from the blackness and gripped him by the coat.

"Will, they have us trapped." Hobbs began a coughing fit of his own, bending over and maintaining his grip on Will as more men shoved passed them.

"There has to be a way out." Will fought his way through the smoke, looking for anything that could be considered an exit, pulling his friend behind him.

He stopped suddenly, his shoulder brushing up against a ladder that was nailed to one of the beams in the barn. He looked up. It led to the hayloft from which Angelus had vanished. There must be a way out up there. It was their only chance.

He grabbed Hobbs and pushed him against the ladder, pointing upwards. Hobbs nodded and began climbing. Will looked around, grabbing at anyone who came near him and shoving them toward the escape route. Shapes came toward him out of the blackness and he urged them up the ladder. Breathing was much more difficult. His throat felt raw and each pull of smoke-filled air was like acid to his lungs. The barn was a furnace. He could feel his skin burning. Unable to bear it any longer, he had no choice but to grab hold of the ladder himself. He clenched his jaw when pain shot through his blistered hands and started to climb.


	6. Recovering

**Recovering**

_London 1880_

_September…_

_Eyes, vicious and yellow, glared out of the blackness. Screams—so many screams. Blood covered the floor, spilling from the bodies scattered about, their throats torn. Glassy eyes unseeing, yet accusing in their final stare._

_The smell was overpowering. It clawed at him, invading his senses and choking the breath from his lungs. The blood began to bubble and hiss, boiling in the heat. The room became an oven, cooking human flesh and blood._

_The yellow eyes pierced the blackness. Smiling. Laughing. The room began spinning. The bodies fell away as the ground began to crumble and crack, revealing an inferno below. The heat. It was too much. It seared him._

_Mocking laughter echoed around him, filling his ears along with the screams, the sounds, the cries for help. It all became entwined in his head until it was pulsing, booming, threatening to split him open. He covered his ears but it did no good. The pressure kept building and building and building and he opened his mouth, desperate to try and release some of the burden…_

"Will! Will, wake up! Will!"

Will shot bolt upright in bed with a gasp. Every inch of him was covered in sweat. The panic was still there. He could still hear them; the voices, the screams, the laughter. He drew in a shuddering breath, his lungs gasping for air and burning when they received it. He became aware of pain shooting through him like a hundred stabbing knives. It was hot, so hot. He shifted backwards in the bed a little, and his back met the soft pillows behind him, but he found little comfort in them as pain and heat seared his body at the contact. Wincing, he squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on breathing normally through the pain and the burning sensation. Gradually, he became aware of a hand on his arm.

"Will, can you hear me? Are you all right? Will?"

Will opened his eyes. It was Gray. His face was haggard, bandaged on one side, but it was him. He was standing by Will's bed, leaning over him looking concerned. He sighed in relief when Will focused on him, and sat back into a chair by the bed.

"Gray?" Will croaked, and grabbed his throat at the sudden pain. It felt raw and torn.

Gray offered him a glass of water, which Will accepted, surprised to see that his hands were bandaged. Gray raised a bandaged hand of his own to his hair, before looking back at Will with saddened eyes.

"Thank God you're all right. It was bad, Will, as bad as it gets. We barely made it out alive. So many others…so many of the others didn't…" Gray closed his eyes and drew in what appeared to be a painful deep breath.

Will finished drinking and leaned back, letting Gray put down the glass, still half full. Drinking was as difficult as breathing, though he felt marginally better for it. He knew it would hurt like hell to talk, but he had so much to ask. Bits of what had happened before he blacked out were beginning to flicker through his head. He looked around while he waited for Gray to compose himself, and realized he was in an unfamiliar house. The room he was in was small, but lavishly decorated. He turned back to his friend who was now looking at him again.

"What happened? Gray what—" Will paused to fight back a cough, before continuing in a raspy voice that sounded nothing like his own. "I don't—remember much. The barn. Fire. Where are we?"

"We're in a safe-house. Property that belongs to the Watchers Council, actually. We made it to the Club, but we didn't think it would be safe. The Council sent transport as soon as they found out what had happened. We're somewhere on the outskirts of the city. One of the Watchers lives here, so an invitation is required if—" Gray broke off.

They sat in silence for a minute or two. Will relaxed a fraction, knowing where he was, and that it was theoretically safe. Before he attempted to speak, Gray held up a hand to silence him and continued.

"You got us out, Will. The loft, it—there was a hatch, a window, whatever you want to call it, where Angelus must have got in and out. It was a long way up, but with the place on fire and the walls—the thatched roof was ablaze and falling down around us, even the floor of the loft was becoming unstable—It was a leap of faith through a ring of fire. Hurt like hell for a lot of people. One or two broke a leg. You twisted your ankle fairly badly. Hobbs wrenched his knee. But we got out. About seven—no, eight of us."

"Hobbs is alive then?" Will couldn't help but ask about his other friend.

"Yes. He's angry as hell because he's confined to a bed for a while, but he's alive."

"I don't even remember seeing you."

"No. I didn't even know it was you that got me out until afterwards, when we hauled you up off the ground. I just remember some chap grabbing me by the collar and flinging me at a ladder. Those outside were shouting at anyone up there to jump, so I jumped. Two more came after me before you. You were the last."

"What about—?"

"The vampires were gone by then." Gray scoffed, humourlessly. "Bastards didn't even wait to see it burn. Would've thought they would enjoy…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, before speaking again, his tone harder, more businesslike. "Found some horses and a cart. Loaded up the injured and headed to what we hoped would be a safe place until we could get help. You passed out on the way, but you weren't really with us by then anyway. Haven't woken up 'til now. W e've been here for two days."

Will stared down at the covers on the bed, staring at his bandages and reddened arms as his hands rested above the blankets.

"Smoke inhalation was the worst damage done to us, miraculously. We're all lucky to have still been conscious enough to get out. Bit scorched, and banged up from the fall, but we'll all recover. At least that's what the doctor reckons." Gray's voice betrayed his scepticism.

Will closed his eyes as more images invaded his mind. The loft—The floor cracking, breaking away—The roof caving in—Jumping—It all blurred together in his mind. Yellow eyes and boiling blood erupted in his head and his eyes flew open, back to the decorative room and a silent Gray at his bedside, staring over at the single window. It was just a nightmare he tried to remind himself, then stopped. It wasn't just a nightmare. It was very, very real. The horrors of what had occurred were no less graphic or frightening than what he had imagined in his dream.

"What are they going to do?" Will asked.

"Who?"

"The Council."

"Oh. Nothing. They'll keep us here until we're declared fit and healthy then send us packing, I imagine."

Will clenched his jaw and glared at the window.

"We aren't their concern. We should be thankful they've offered us this much really. They aren't going to go fighting demons, and the Slayer is still too engaged with her own duties." Gray continued.

"It was an attack on us, an attack on their allies, to wipe us out. Whoever helped the vampires set those traps alerted them to our intentions at that meeting, and the Council aren't even going to get to the source of—" Will broke off, and turned away, seething.

"What do you want me to say, Will?" Gray asked, wearily.

"Nothing. I know it's not…It's them, and I should know better than to expect—But we were slaughtered. That can't go unpunished."

"Will. The Hunters are over, slaughtered like you said. We aren't an army any more, not that we ever really were to begin with, but certainly not like we could've been. We can't take them on like this."

Will remained fixed in a stony silence. Gray waited several minutes before sighing and rising to his feet.

"I'll be back later to check on you. I should go and see how Hobbs is doing. He has a habit of making the maids that are tending to him cry. Focus on getting better, Will. Please, just try and do that, all right?"

Will still didn't look away from the window, but gave a slow nod in answer to Gray's request. Gray exited the room quietly. Will waited until he heard the soft click of the latch before shutting his eyes again, and allowing a sob to break free from his lips, as a single tear trickled down his face. Thoughts of his mother entered his head, but Gray had already left. He hoped she was safe. He choked back a second sob and raised his head up, gritting his teeth and forcing his disturbing thoughts back. He remembered Angelus' grin as he backed away into the shadows and opened his eyes again, the tears gone, fury replacing his grief.

* * *

><p>Will spent most of the day fighting back memories of the barn and his dream. Maids came to check on him and see to his bandages. His skin was raw and tender, but healing. He had been lucky, and hadn't suffered any serious burns, though he may have a few scars. He thought of Gray and his bandaged face. The maids spoke to him, trying to make conversation, but he was in no mood for light-hearted banter and remained stoic for the duration of their duties, and most of the evening until Gray returned. He gave his friend enough time to collapse wearily into the chair before diving into questions that had entered his thoughts since his friend's last visit.<p>

"What's the official word on what happened? And what about friends and family? Is there an investigation?"

"Will, one at a time please, I'll tell you anything I know but you have to slow down, and it's not good to push your voice."

Will gave him an irritated glare and pursed his lips before raising a hand to gesture that Gray should get on with answering his questions. Gray sighed and settled back into the chair, getting as comfortable as he could.

"They said it was a tragedy. That a Club meeting, most likely a Boxing Club, was gathered for a fight when the fire broke out. They said it must have been a lamp that got knocked over, and the fire spread too quickly for it to be contained. They figured it blocked off the exits. Police are reportedly looking into it, but they've most likely been paid to keep things quiet and stick with that story. The families who knew what was really going on have been informed. The families that had been kept in the dark were left with the official story. As for us survivors, we were never there. Anyone we have waiting for us has been informed that we're safe and sound, but away on business for a while."

"So it will be a tragic topic of discussion for a few days and then be forgotten about, all nice and neat."

"People aren't ready to know, Will, and who would believe them if they told the truth?"

"It just seems so pointless. Those men are dead. It's my fault."

"No."

Will closed his eyes as he felt the guilt rise up again. Their faces flashed in front of him, the accusing stares, never wavering, looking right at him.

"It is. I arranged that meeting. We were all gathered in one isolated spot, perfectly situated for them to pick us off. God we were so foolish. It was so stupid. We shouldn't have gathered there. We should have tried to leave the minute Angelus showed himself and fought our way out instead of waiting there to be burned alive."

"Damn it, Will, no! It wasn't your fault, don't you dare say that, _don't you dare_."

Will met Gray's gaze and was taken aback by the anger in the man's watery eyes. Gray pointed a finger at Will and frowned as he spoke, his voice shaking slightly.

"You wanted us to meet, but you had no say in where that meeting took place. It wasn't your decision, and maybe in hindsight it was foolish to gather there, but nobody thought Angelus would turn up. No one suspected it might not be safe with every Hunter in the city there. You couldn't have known any more than the rest of us what would happen, and you can't blame yourself for not predicting Angelus' plans. No one could. He's a monster. Only a monster could get inside his head to understand him, and that's not what you are, Will, so how could you have possibly known? You didn't kill those men, that _thing _did. I'm alive right now because of you. Eight men from that barn are breathing, including yourself, because you got us out. Don't you _dare_ say it was your fault, Will. Don't. I'll kill you myself if I have to listen to you blame yourself for that."

Gray waited, his gaze held Will's until Will nodded, subdued. Gray relaxed a little and leaned back in his chair again. Will noticed just how tired his friend seemed. Suddenly he felt guilty for a different reason.

"Have you slept at all since that night?"

Gray released a short chuckle and looked over at the window again, chewing on the corner of his lip.

"No, not really. I close my eyes and it just comes back. I'm one of the healthier of us invalids. I've been doing the rounds, keeping the bed-ridden chaps like yourself and Hobbs up to speed, and in good company. The housekeeper's been at me to rest, but I can't. I've tried. I do realize I can't just stay awake all the time, but it doesn't feel like rest. Any sleep I do get is broken, and fitful, and I just end up feeling more exhausted when I wake up than before I closed my eyes. It's like a battle, and I'm losing."

Will didn't know what to say to his friend. Who was he to lecture him on sleeping when he himself was afraid to close his eyes for fear of reliving the nightmare that haunted him during the day as well as at night? Asleep, his guard would be down, and the horrors would burst free of their restraints to plague his thoughts. He had to get better soon. He couldn't stay confined to a bed in some strange house any longer. Stiff, sore and weak, he may be, but it shouldn't take long for him to be fit enough to move about again, so that he could see the other survivors, and figure out what to do now. As curious as he was about Gray's face, he didn't have the courage to bring it up. Gray coughed and rose to his feet.

"I think I'll do one last round of the place before I retire. Putting off sleep won't help either, but maybe I can dull my brain enough to find a few moments rest."

"They let you drink?"

"Are they going to try and stop me? They don't like it, but I'm not trying to drown myself, so if they know what's good for them, they'll keep quiet and stay away from me. I'll see you tomorrow, Will."

"Tomorrow."

Will watched his friend leave and eased down into the bed. He could barely handle water right now, let alone liquor, but he longed for something to quiet his active mind before slipping into slumber. He would wait it out as long as he could, but he could feel his eyes growing heavy, his body longing to retreat back to the less taxing state of unconsciousness so it could heal. For the first time since he first learned about the existence of real demons, Will was afraid of the dark, but this time it was the darkness behind his own eyelids that he feared the most.

* * *

><p>Several days later, Hobbs was sitting on a bench in the garden with Gray, listening to the birds and the wind, but not really hearing them, his own thoughts buzzing too loudly in his head.<p>

"How is he?" Hobbs asked, suddenly breaking the silence between them.

Gray turned to him, and raised his one remaining eyebrow questioningly. His bandages were gone by now, but the scars were still visible on the right side of his face where he had been burned by the fire, a clump of blazing thatch having fallen on him before he had hurled himself out of the loft. His other eyebrow had been singed off, as well as some of his hair. Though he wasn't horribly disfigured, it was still a shock to see his marred features.

"What do you mean, how is he? You've seen him yourself, you know how he is."

"I've seen him, yes, but I haven't talked to him. Not recently at least, and when I did there was simply something missing…He seems off somehow. You've talked to him more than I have. I thought maybe you knew what's going on inside his head."

"Hobbs, I have a difficult enough time dealing with what's in my own head without daring to enter his, and to that end, no. I don't know what's going on with him, all right? All I know is that he won't let go of this notion of retribution. I've talked to him more because I've been trying to convince him to give up on it before he does something insanely stupid, or at least to wait until we have better resources. Talking to him more than you have doesn't mean I've got any more of a response out of him than what you've heard the past few days. He's completely closed off. He won't answer me, barely acknowledges my presence, and if I get in his way to try and _make_ him respond he just glares daggers at me and shoves his way past. He barely eats or sleeps, and I'd love to say he's worrying me by getting arse over tit drunk, but he isn't. He just locks himself up in his room or the study or the measly excuse for a training room and goes through the same routine every night. The only one he does speak to is the messenger to his mother, and that's just to say 'Thanks' and 'Here' when they exchange the letters. It's driving me up the wall just watching him."

"Well, we have to do something. We can't just let him carry on like this. It isn't healthy."

"You are being awfully bloody insightful today aren't you?"

"I just don't think we should sit by and watch him cut himself off. He's going to do something rash very soon if we can't get a handle on him." Hobbs insisted, looking over his shoulder in case of eavesdroppers.

Gray rolled his eyes at his companion's behaviour and crossed one leg over the other, then folded his arms.

"Don't you think I know that? What do you suggest we do? I've just told you he won't listen to a word I say, whether it's reasonable or not. Ever since I gave him my opinion on his plans to go hunting Angelus and his clan, he hasn't opened his mouth, which is more worrying because now I have absolutely no idea how far those plans have gone already."

"What exactly was your opinion?"

"That it was bloody ludicrous, of course!"

"Well it's no wonder he won't bloody talk about them now then, is it? Really, you know he hasn't been right since what happened. You don't think you could have tried to ease him into listening to reason?"

Gray uncrossed his legs to kick angrily at the pebbles beneath his feet and scowled.

"Of course I tried it. He wouldn't listen to reason, and he kept going on and on, and cutting me off every time I tried to argue so I had enough and I lost it. It was the only thing I said that he actually seemed to hear, and I thought that would be the end of it. When I went up to him the next day he ignored me. Something he's been doing ever since."

"I don't understand. We were all there that night. Does he not see that it affects us as much as it does him? We all want Angelus staked and the dead avenged but we aren't looking to commit suicide to do it. Why can't he hold on to his second chance at living instead of killing himself inside?"

"Oh, he knows we're affected by it, but Will feels guilty. This is something he feels he has to do."

Hobbs twisted around in his seat so he could face Gray directly. His brow was knitted in confusion as he tried to make sense of what his friend had just told him. He couldn't.

"What do you mean he feels guilty? What the hell does he have to feel guilty for? He didn't invite Angelus to the gathering or set the place on fire."

"You know that, and I know that, and I explained it to him the second he told me, but it doesn't change what his mind is telling him. He's been having nightmares about it—"

"So have the rest of us."

"Yes, but Will's are about all those who died _accusing_ him for letting it happen. The way he sees it, it was him that arranged that meeting, regardless of Woollam-Evans having the final say, and he thinks he should have known better than to allow it to happen in a location that wasn't safe. Angelus spoke directly to him. He attacked Will first. He's heard of him, and if he hears that Will survived a second time…"

Gray trailed off, clenching his fists and looking back at the estate, toward the window of the library where their friend was no doubt locked away, furiously working out a strategy against his nemeses.

"You think Angelus will come after Will again if he knows he's alive?" Hobbs asked eventually, a little more subdued.

"I'd say it's guaranteed, and Will knows it."

"Then why go looking for him? His life is in danger and he shouldn't be preparing to expose himself like this."

"Hobbs, he knows. What he's worried about is getting anyone else killed because Angelus is after him. He wants to strike first and eliminate the threat before anyone else dies. Why do you think he only comes out to receive word from home? He's afraid. He's afraid of what will happen if he sits here waiting for trouble to find him first. He's shut us out because this is something he is determined to see through to the end, with or without our help, and I'm sure he's happier we stay out of it instead of putting our lives at risk, which is why he's being so damn cold towards us now."

"So what do we do? We can't just sit here and wait for him to run off one night. Are we really going to just stay out of it? I don't think it's a good idea to go after those three, but I'll be damned if I let him go off and make a martyr of himself because of misplaced guilt. I'm happy as a pig in shit to be alive, but that doesn't mean I'm going to retire to lead some meaningless life and give up what I was raised my whole life to do. I'm a Hunter, and if my friend is going to go out there and hunt those bastards then I'm going with him, whether he likes it or not. I only wish he had a solid plan of attack."

"Maybe he has. It's been a while. He might have something all worked out, but I doubt it."

Hobbs frowned a little and seemed to be contemplating what he wanted to say. The brash man was accustomed to just blurting out whatever entered his head. He never usually considered the effect of his words. Gray rolled his eyes and released a loud breath.

"Come on, out with it man. Whatever it is, just say it. It's a little late to become the sensitive type now."

"What about you? I know you don't agree with what he's doing, but are you really going to just stay here and watch us both head off looking for three notorious vampires?"

"I've never much cared for holding back because the odds are against us, but there's a difference between being the underdog and going into something you know you don't stand a chance of winning. Of course I don't want to watch you both go to your deaths, and that's what'll happen if you go, but if we go out there and die, then who's going to reorganize the Hunters in the area? We've been practically obliterated. Most of the others who survived the fire want to abandon hunting altogether. The ones who don't, prefer to wait until the Scourge of Europe moves on again before going back out into those streets. This place is going to become a demon's dream home very soon. I think what we should be doing is getting in touch with Hunters in other regions. We should look for new recruits and regroup _then_ come up with a way to take them on, with an army as we had planned initially, not just a few foolhardy men looking for revenge."

Hobbs chewed that thought over. He agreed with Gray, but he knew they wouldn't convince Will to wait, and he didn't want his young friend going out there alone. Gray sighed loudly and stood up. He turned to face Hobbs, placing his hands in his pockets.

"Are you going to sit out here all day? Or shall we go inside and try to talk to the madman?"

Hobbs nodded and rose up from the bench, falling into step beside Gray as they headed back to the house. As they drew nearer, they caught sight of a figure on a horse approaching from the road. Whoever it was, he was in a hurry. Both men were curious, as it was rare for any visitors to come to their little sanctuary except the messenger or the doctor. They decided to head around to the main entrance to see what was going on, their curiosity getting the better of them. Their feet crunched along the gravel as they got closer and Gray gasped, halting in his tracks. Hobbs frowned at him.

"What is it?"

Gray began to hurry towards the entrance, his pace increasing rapidly, and Hobbs had to rush to keep up. The horse's rider was visible now, a young, somewhat scrawny man with brown hair that Hobbs couldn't help but find somewhat familiar.

"It's Charlie." Gray explained, quickly, as the horse was brought to a stop, the rider practically falling from its back.

"Who?"

"Charlie. Will's stable-hand. He's the only one who knows Will's a Hunter and why he's really here."

Realization dawned on Hobbs at last and they both reached the door just as it was opened to Charlie who clutched at the doorframe breathing hard, one hand clutching his stomach. The sight of his deathly pale skin and the beads of sweat on his forehead weren't reassuring.

"Charlie? What's happened, man?" Gray asked, grabbing hold of the feeble young man who became like dead weight in Gray's hands as he eased him to the ground.

"Master…Will." Charlie wheezed out, before closing his eyes and slipping into unconsciousness.

Gray looked up at the curious servants gathered at the door, gaping.

"Help me get him inside and call for a doctor, and for the love of God someone fetch Mr. Pratt immediately!" he shouted, making them jump and flurry into action. Hobbs and two of the servants helped Gray carry Charlie inside and up to one of the vacant rooms, while one rushed off to send for a doctor and the rest ran off to find Will.

They had just gotten Charlie settled and were staunching the flow of blood from a wound in his stomach when the door burst open and a dishevelled looking Will entered. Gray and Hobbs met his eyes with worry and fear. He took one look at the bed and they saw the panic set in.

He drew nearer to the bed, looking down at his injured servant. "No. Please, no," he whispered.


	7. Broken

**Broken**

_London 1880_

_October…_

Gray held his breath as he watched his friend.

Will took slow steps forward, ignoring everyone but the man on the bed. His eyes flicked over the blood on Charlie's shirt as he reached the bedside. He swallowed audibly and reached a hand out, taking hold of the man's collar. When his hand touched the wet, sticky fabric, he cringed, but took a deep breath to shake off his discomfort and pulled back the cloth, exposing the fang marks, from which Charlie's blood was still flowing.

"Oh, Jesus. He's been bitten." Hobbs said.

Will looked as though the floor had been swept out from under him. Gray looked down, aching for his friend. If Charlie had been bitten then it was likely that Will's mother—

Gray started when Will shot back from the bed and headed for the door. He rushed to block Will's path holding both of his hands up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Home, where else? Now get out of my way. I have to go." Will tried to push past him, but Gray held firm.

"Will—" Gray began, in a warning tone.

He was cut off abruptly when Will grabbed him by his jacket and shoved him against the wall. Gray stared at his friend, stunned, but didn't recognize the man looking back at him. Will was furious. His eyes, normally a bright blue, were dark—almost black. The sharp angles of his face were more defined from the weight he'd lost over the last few weeks, cast in shadow which made him appear more sinister somehow.

Hobbs was too taken aback to move. Will's voice gave away the panic he must be feeling, and his hands trembled as they pinned Gray to the wall.

"I have to go. Mother…I have to go. Don't try to stop me. This isn't your fight but I'm going, and so help me if you get in my way—" Will let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a few seconds then released his friend, and turned for the door.

He was gone before they could make another move to stop him. Hobbs blinked. Gray pushed off the wall Will had shoved him against and shared a glance with the other man. Never, in all their time together, had they seen Will act like that. He'd never threatened them before, no matter how mad he'd been at them.

"We have to stop him." Hobbs broke the silence. "He's running into a trap. We have to—"

He was interrupted by a loud, rasping sound from the bed. Charlie had regained consciousness, and was batting weakly at the maids trying to patch up his wounds. They'd found a second shallow stab wound in his stomach. Gray headed back to the bed and stood over Charlie, holding him down and trying to keep him calm.

"Shh, Charlie, relax, it's all right. You're safe here. They're trying to help you. You're bleeding, you were bitten, do you remember?"

Charlie nodded then winced in pain. He opened his eyes again and focused on Gray and fought to speak.

"Master…William…" He broke off, wheezing, and coughed up a little blood.

"Charlie, don't try to talk, you need to conserve your strength. The house, it was attacked yes? Just nod." Gray said, trying to get as much information as he could out of the man without weakening him too much.

Charlie nodded and opened his mouth to speak again. He coughed, winced, but shook his head when Gray tried to silence him. He took a moment and tried a second time.

"Horse escaped. I went…to find…Came back….dead…all dead…" He broke off again, struggling for more breath.

The color drained from Gray's face. He glanced up at Hobbs who looked anxious, his eyes wide and his mouth a thin line beneath his mustache. Gray leaned in to Charlie again, regaining the man's focus.

"Charlie, what about Mrs. Pratt? Is she…Is she dead?" Gray dreaded the answer he was sure was coming.

He was surprised when Charlie didn't nod, instead opting to speak again.

"A man came to the house. He said…said Master William…was hurt..."

"He got an invitation?" Gray asked, suddenly understanding.

"Angelus?" Hobbs asked, and his eyes widened when Gray gave him a look that confirmed his suspicions.

"Don't know 'bout Mrs. Pratt…Bit me…message for—"

"A message for Will." Gray finished, grimly, and Charlie nodded.

"Trap." the injured man confirmed, before collapsing back onto the pillows, exhaustion pulling his eyes closed.

Gray stood and marched towards the door. Hobbs glanced at the bed before quickly following.

"What—?" he began, before Gray cut him off.

"The Pratt household. Will's walking into a trap and if we don't catch him we're going be short a friend very soon. Get us some horses!" He shouted the order to the nearest member of staff before turning into the training room.

He grabbed stakes, knives and an axe, tossing various weapons to Hobbs as well. Fully armed, Gray led Hobbs outside where two horses were being brought from the stables.

"But I thought you said—" Hobbs began again, as Gray pushed past him to hoist himself up into the saddle of the nearest horse.

"I know, but I guess I'm just as foolhardy as the pair of you. And besides, there's a difference between heading out to hunt down that bastard for vengeance and trying to save the ones you love."

Hobbs settled into the saddle of his own horse and the two set off at a gallop, praying they'd be in time to catch Will or at least, to help him.

* * *

><p>Will barely waited for his horse to slow to a halt before dropping down onto the gravel in front of his home. He stared up at it. The sky was beginning to darken slightly as evening approached. The house, usually so familiar to him, seemed different somehow. It was imposing, daring him to enter and witness the horrors inside—Will cut off that train of thought rapidly.<p>

_You're letting your fear take you over. It's a house. Your house. Your home. It can't suddenly be sinister. It's your imagination_, he told himself.

However, as he reached for the handle, he found that hard to believe. He was almost positive he could sense a hum from the door; a formidable presence that grew as he opened it and stepped inside. The house was dark—too dark. Will stepped further into the entryway, casting glances around at the shadows for any sign of a threat. Everything was silent. It was as quiet as the grave. He glanced at the stairs, pitch black, in front of him. Changing his mind, he turned left instead, towards the sitting room.

His footsteps sounded incredibly loudly in his ears; each step he took made a pounding noise in his head. He felt his pulse racing. It was so unnervingly quiet that Will wanted to scream, shout, make any sort of noise just to break the silence, but he fought against the impulse. The room was devoid of life, empty, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or not at the lack of any human presence.

He noticed that the curtains were drawn. They must be that way all over the house for it to be so dark. The only light in the room came from the lit fireplace. It took him a moment to spot his mother's cane leaning against the couch. He froze.

"William, I wasn't expecting you back so soon. And in one piece too."

A sob escaped Will's throat and he turned towards the voice. He watched, awe-struck, as his mother emerged from the shadows behind him, a music box in her hands. She walked purposefully, carrying herself as a strong, proud woman, a _healthy_ woman.

_She's glowing_, he thought.

Gone was the ashen hue to her skin, replaced by a light Will couldn't remember seeing coming from her in years. Her hair was rippling down her shoulders in golden waves. She walked by him and placed the music box on the mantelpiece carefully, adjusting the decorative item slightly before turning to face him, folding her hands in front of her, waiting expectantly.

"Look at you. You're glowing, Mother."

"Am I?" she asked, surprised, glancing down at her hand curiously.

Will nodded, feeling at a complete loss. The sight of her standing there, so—well, so full of—

"Life," he whispered.

Anne looked at him sharply, a smile spreading across her face. Will didn't find the comfort in it he usually did.

"What was that, William?" she asked.

"How?" William asked, his initial haze at seeing his mother wearing off, slowly replaced by trepidation.

"Oh, it's quite simple really, if a little unusual. I had a visitor, you see. Someone you probably know," she began, walking around the room at a slow pace.

Will felt his heart sink, and he reached a hand out to the couch to hold himself up, staring at the floor.

"Imagine my surprise," Anne continued, "when a man I'd never seen before called here claiming that he was a good friend of yours, and that he had news about my son, my _desperately ill_ son. Naturally, I had him invited in, anxious to hear what had happened to you and if you were all right. Of course, you weren't really ill, were you? Well, at least not by then. Honestly, to think you almost died in that terrible fire and never told me. Shame on you, William. A mother worries, you know."

Will sat down on the couch, his head in his hands. Anne came to a halt behind him, leaning over to place a gentle hand on his head, patting his hair affectionately.

"Oh it's all right, darling. What's done is done, water under the bridge and all that. He told me you were there discussing a plan of action against demons. I thought he was mad. Demons, after all, don't actually exist. How mistaken I was. There was nothing for it but for him to show me, of course. All this time, you've been out there hunting monsters and I never even knew they were real. He proved it was no trick, killed the staff, draining the blood from their weak, human bodies.

Will was shaking. Tears started streaming down his face. Anne continued to circle him, striding around the room as she spoke, mimicking a shark assessing its prey.

"He promised me something else. He said he could make me well again, that it would be a gift. That I would be free, at last, to leave this house again. That I'd be able to live life, and all I had to do, was give mine up. My life, that miserable existence ruled by illness where my only source of comfort was a loving son. A son, who was so insistent on remaining by my side, I thought I'd never be free of his clutching hands at my apron strings. A weak, feeble, fool who spent his time writing that awful drivel he fancied poetry. My only hope was that you'd find some other fool of a woman to fawn over. That you would marry and I could finally have some peace."

"Stop it." Will said, looking up at her at last, his eyes red and his face wet.

"Look at you, sniveling away. Honestly, I find it hard to believe that I was wrong about you." She shook her head. "Only I wasn't, not at first. You've changed, William. It was that job, not just some harmless research for an unheard of company that did it. You spent your nights out there, killing those creatures, leaving your ailing mother at home. I was grateful for the time away from you of course, but it was so unlike you. And now, I discover that you've been 'protecting the innocent' of all things. A pity you weren't here to protect me, isn't it? But then I would never have been _cured_ if you had, would I? You'd have let me go on, sitting here, letting the sickness eat away at me until there was nothing left."

"Mother—"

"Oh it's all right, William. I've been given a gift, after all. He told me you'd come to see me, that I should wait here for a second look at my son, the hero. And he was right. Here you are. The question is what do you do now? William? Are you going to protect the innocent from your dear mother?"

Will stood shakily, backing away as his mother approached. But she wasn't his mother anymore. He knew it, but comprehending it was entirely different. Anne continued to stalk towards him until she had him backed against the fireplace. She reached out to him, and he flinched.

"What's the matter, William? It's only me, your darling Mummy." She ran a hand down his cheek and the cold, clammy feel of it made Will feel sick.

"No!" He shoved her backwards and she fell back on the couch roughly.

"How _dare_ you? You ungrateful little wretch!" She grabbed her cane and flew towards him.

Will caught it before the blow could make contact, and they struggled until he wrenched her arm sideways, bringing the cane down so hard against the mantle that it snapped, leaving a sharp point at the end. The sight of it, weapon of choice against a vampire, shocked Will. He looked at his mother and a monster gazed back at him. He had time to stare into her golden eyes and see the ridges of her brow, the glint of her fangs as she smiled at him again.

"Don't worry, William. I won't give you the same gift. Not now I'm free of you at last."

Will looked at the face before him again. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he said, then pulled back the broken cane and thrust the stake into his mother's heart.

She gasped in shock and pain then her vampiric features melted away, revealing the face he knew so well once more. She gave him one last sad, parting smile as she faded away into dust and was gone. Will dropped the cane and it clattered to the floor. He leaned against the wall and felt his body sag. She was gone. He'd lost her. He hadn't been here and now she was gone forever.

* * *

><p>Gray and Hobbs saw Will's horse grazing on the lawn nearby. They looked up at the house. Though it was dark out, there was no light coming from inside. They shared a look as they dismounted and headed to the front door. It opened with a creak and they peered inside. It was difficult to see without any light. Gray let the door swing wide and stepped inside, Hobbs following close behind.<p>

"Will?" Gray called out, nervously.

There was no answer. They moved forward slowly, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness. Making their way inward, inch by inch, they decided to check the upstairs first, feeling sure that Will's mother would likely have been confined to her bed as she had been so often of late. Keeping close to the wall they made their way up into the blackness. It was too dark to see, so Gray lit the lamps on the landing. They blinked as their eyes adjusted to the new light. Gradually making their way deeper into the house, they checked each room they passed, illuminating their path with candles and lamps, determined to banish the miserable darkness. Each and every room was empty. Once they'd checked all the rooms upstairs they made their way back down.

It was then that they saw a faint light flickering beneath the door to their right. Gray carried his axe in one hand and a stake in the other as he inched towards the door. Hobbs had his own stake in hand, keeping one eye on the shadows around them. Gray opened the door, letting it swing inward to reveal the shadowy room, the only source of light a fading fire. Slight movement out of the corner of his eye drew Gray's attention to the couch. He raised his axe a little higher and blinked as Hobbs lit the lamps, revealing the huddled shape sitting on the couch.

"Will?" Gray asked, lowering his weapons.

He could barely believe it. Will was there, and alive from what Gray could tell. But the man still hadn't looked up, even as light flooded the room, and didn't answer.

"Will?" He tried again, stepping closer.

His friend gradually became aware of his presence and raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and he squinted in the light. He took time to focus on Gray, then Hobbs. He seemed a little disoriented as he took in his surroundings. He began to stare at the floor, drifting away again. Gray dropped his axe and knelt on the floor in front of Will, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him to keep him focused.

"Will. What happened? Are you all right? Was Angelus here? Will?"

Will blinked a few times then shook his head. He continued to shake his head as he ran his trembling hands through his hair, looking down again.

"Damn it man, talk! What happened?" Gray shook Will a little harder.

"She was here, Gray. She was here, but it wasn't her. Not anymore. Wasn't her. She's gone." Will choked out, shaking his head again.

"Who was here? Will?"

"Mother. She was—" He swallowed sharply. "She was a vampire, Gray. Angelus turned her and left her here for me to find. I had to stake her."

Gray leaned back and watched Will run his hands through his hair again. He looked back at Hobbs.

"We should check the rest of the house. Charlie said Angelus killed the others but we need to be certain she was the only one he turned."

Hobbs nodded and backed out of the room. Gray turned to Will again and waited for his friend to acknowledge him.

"Will, we're going to check the house, then we need to leave, understand? You can't stay here. We'll go back to the estate now, all right? Regroup."

Will nodded wearily. Gray gave him another concerned look then picked up his axe and followed Hobbs. Most of the house was empty. They found the bodies piled on top of each other in a bloody heap on the floor in the servants' quarters. They had been drained completely. Charlie was the only member of staff who'd survived and even then it was touch and go for him when they'd left.

Angelus hadn't bothered siring household staff. He hadn't even wanted them for minions. He had enough of his own already. Mrs. Pratt had been his grand plan, a surprise for the man who had taken up his interest. While they moved through the house, extinguishing the light they had brought to the gloomy scene of Will's latest torment, they discussed what they could do now, and what would become of their friend.

"This will break him, won't it?" Hobbs asked, as he closed another door to a newly darkened room.

"He's lost the last family tie he had left. I don't know what that's going to do to him, but it won't be good. I think our biggest problem now is that Angelus knows we're alive, and that he's determined to finish Will off more than he is any of us."

"But why? Why focus on him? If he wants the Hunters destroyed, why not come after all of us? Why attack Mrs. Pratt?"

"You're forgetting who we're dealing with, Hobbs. Angelus loves to torment his victims. It's no fun if he doesn't torture them first and take away everything they love, everything that means anything to them. He always goes for the family first. Will survived two attempts on his life. He's known as the best Hunter in London. Angelus has been testing him, and so far Will is passing. Tonight he was upping the ante. He turned Mrs. Pratt instead of killing her because it would hurt Will more to make him kill his own mother instead of finding her dead. He's forced Will to do something he should never have had to do. It was another test, to judge him."

"What do you mean?" Hobbs asked, stopping.

Grey stopped also, not wanting to have this conversation where Will could hear them.

"Will's mother was dying, Hobbs. She had months left at best. Angelus killed her, but he left behind a creature that looked like her, talked like her, and had all her memories. Will's greatest wish would have been for his mother to recover from that illness, even though it was impossible. For the first time in years, she was well again, but it was a monster wearing her face. He could have let her live and she would more than likely have killed him. Instead, he did the right thing, and took her second chance to live in this world away."

"That creature wasn't his mother." Hobbs stated.

"No. She wasn't. Will knew that, but it was all that was left of her, and he had to kill her."

Will was in the same position they'd left him in. He didn't complain or struggle when they pulled him to his feet and led him out of the house. He just followed along like a lost child. He was silent the entire journey back to the estate. When they reached what they hoped would remain a safe haven for now, Will went to bed, exhaustion finally taking its toll as the drive for vengeance he'd been relying on finally petered out, distress and loss taking its place. Hobbs and Gray checked in on Charlie to find that he was alive and resting before heading off to bed themselves. Tomorrow was going to be a long day and they had no idea what state Will would be in when he woke the next morning.

* * *

><p>"I still say it's a lot of trouble to go to for one man. If it was a Slayer, well I could understand, but this Hunter is just a mere mortal. No powers, not chosen, nothing special about him at all. It seems like a lot of wasted effort on your part when we should be bathing this city in blood."<p>

Angelus watched Darla run the brush through her shimmering blonde hair again as she sat on the edge of the bed. He lay fully reclined on the luxurious bed, hands behind his head as he observed her. His Darla was a beauty, but she didn't understand his passion for artistry. Time and patience were required for the sweetest torment to his victims. He could thrive on their screams and pleas for days before he gave them the end they so desired. This Hunter would be one of his greatest achievements, second only to the masterpiece that was his Drusilla.

"Daddy doesn't want to kill him until he knows what makes the pretty Hunter tick."

Angelus grinned as his childe swayed across the floor to her own rhythm, watching her hands float through the air as she raised her arms above her head.

"Dru's right, my sweet. I've heard a lot about this boy. T'would seem a shame for me to kill him so easily. Besides, he's already escaped two of my traps so far. He might just be worth the effort in the end."

"If he survives your latest game you mean." Darla ceased brushing her hair and turned to look at him again. "Poor boy, his frail old mother's been given new life by a demon, and he's the one who must end it."

"If he's as righteous as they say he is, he'll survive, and if he's worth his title as London's greatest Hunter, he'll come after me."

"_Then_ will you kill him? So we can finally enjoy ourselves here instead of concentrating on one worthless little life?"

Angelus reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of Darla's hair as she leaned over him, jerking her roughly down to hover inches above his face. She merely smiled in response, her dark eyes twinkling in the lamplight.

"I'll kill him when I'm good and ready, don't you worry. Until then, we can have plenty of fun doing what we've been doing. Or have you forgotten that theatre I took you both to the other night? Where we drank the blood of the rich in the best seats in the house with a show to watch? Or the comfortable accommodation I acquired for us here in the home of his Lordship?" Angelus gestured to the prone body on the floor beside them, the previous resident of their room at the Royal London Hotel.

"Of course not, but it's been so long since we had a good massacre. Don't you think it's time we really made our mark on this city? With the Hunters dead there's nothing to stop us."

"Except not all of the Hunters are dead. Once they are, I'll treat you to a grand massacre and we'll feast for days. This city will remember the tragedy we'll bring to it for centuries to come."

Darla grinned at that and lowered herself for a kiss. Angelus kissed her savagely, drawing blood from her lip which he sucked on greedily before leaning back and releasing her, licking his lips. Darla smiled lazily, like a cat, before sitting back up to resume brushing her hair.

"The handsome prince is sad, but destiny's coming for him. He'll have a new mummy soon, and we can all have a tea party in celebration. He is special you know. He's going to change the world."

Both vampires turned to look at the dark-haired Drusilla as she giggled madly, spinning around in circles that made them dizzy just watching her.

"Must she do that?" Darla asked, irritated.

"Dru has her fun and you have yours. Leave her be, Darla. Besides, she usually means more of what she says than any sane person."

"So you know what she's rambling on about then?" Darla asked skeptically.

"Not all the time." Angelus admitted gruffly, watching his childe continue to spin around the room. "But when it matters I do. It all comes to mean something eventually."


	8. Lost

**Lost**

****_London 1880_

_October..._

Will groaned as he slowly pulled himself up from the dark pit into which he'd descended the previous night. He didn't want to open his eyes, but there was a light shining on his face that made his closed eyelids appear to glow red, and he couldn't stand the sight. Wearily, he forced them open. He shut them almost instantly as they filled with blinding white light, and he groaned again, loudly, like an injured animal.

Muttering curses under his breath, he opened his eyes once more, blinking as he sat up and rubbed them with the heels of his hands. He sighed and leant his head back, feeling his spine stretch and click into pace as he raised his arms. Looking around, he recognized the room that had become so familiar to him. He was at the Watcher's estate. Placing his hands back on the mattress, he swung his legs out over the edge of the bed. When his bare feet touched the cold floor it suddenly hit him.

_Last night…Oh God…_

Feeling nauseous, Will bent over so that his arms rested on his knees, his head buried between his legs. Staring at the floor, he saw her face over and over again in that moment before she was no more than dust in the flickering firelight. Will couldn't breathe, the room made him claustrophobic. He couldn't sit here. He had to do something, had to move.

Shooting up off the bed, he began dressing hurriedly. The simple task was accomplished in seconds and he had a brief moment of panic wondering what he was supposed to do now. Remembering Charlie, Will made a decision to go and check on him. He closed the distance to the door in a few mere strides and was halfway down the hall to Charlie's room when he heard a voice behind him. It took him a second to realize the voice was calling his name. He turned to find Hobbs coming towards him.

"Will. You're up. Where are you going?"

"I wanted to check on Charlie," Will answered.

Hobbs squinted at his friend. Will knew he must look exhausted and Hobbs was probably wondering if he'd gotten any sleep at all. Of course, if Will hadn't slept he wouldn't have waited the night out in his room. He'd been awake barely a minute and had been unable to sit still. The numerous sleepless nights had finally caught up to him, but it would take a while before his exhaustion would fade.

"Well, he's probably still resting. He lost a lot of blood. The lad was lucky to have survived. He was only meant—" Hobbs stopped, realizing who he was talking to, but Will flinched, knowing what Hobbs had been about to say.

Charlie was only meant to live long enough to make it here as a message to Will. Letting people live wasn't known to be one of Angelus' traits. Apparently, Hobbs decided to change tactics.

"We can check on him if you like, make sure he is recovering satisfactorily."

"No, no, you're right. He'll be resting, he should rest," Will said, nodding to himself, running a hand through his hair.

They stood in silence and Hobbs smiled nervously.

"Are you hungry? We could head down and have breakfast with the others if you like," Hobbs suggested, trying to break the awkward moment.

"Oh. Yes, I suppose. Breakfast." Will's voice was monotonous when he spoke.

Hobbs twitched his fingers a little as he lead Will towards the stairs, making their way to the breakfast room. It was an anxious habit of his, which was why he was usually in possession of a whiskey glass, just so he was holding something.

Will wasn't the least bit hungry, but he hadn't eaten anything substantial in so long he knew he needed to make an effort. Will felt adrift at sea, simply following Hobbs' suggestions as if he had no alternative. Hobbs was never good with emotional support and Will knew Hobbs had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to handle the situation, hence the nervousness. Will wasn't certain he even wanted support. However, what a person wanted and what a person needed were often two very different things, and he knew his friends would never leave him to suffer alone.

* * *

><p>He knew they had headed down to breakfast, but he didn't remember walking into the breakfast room or sitting down. It was as though he had closed his eyes for an instant and suddenly here they were. Will ran a hand through his hair and glared down at the food in front of him. He wondered what sort of a daze he must have been in, not to notice the constant glances and whispers of the men gathered at the table. News had obviously spread about what had happened. Even if they didn't know all the details, the curiosity must be overwhelming them, and they were probably guessing that he was an orphan now. They were right, he was.<p>

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. He caught another of the men casting a curious glance in his direction, and quickly turned to glare at him. The man started and turned back to his plate immediately, refusing to look in Will's direction again even though Will was still boring a hole in the side of his head. It felt good; the rush of anger. It was a feeling. It diminished when his concentration was broken by Gray calling him. He shook his head of its fuzziness, feeling weariness take over again.

"What?" he asked.

"I was asking you if you wanted to head outside for a bit? Get some fresh air?" Gray repeated, patiently.

He must have seen the way Will was staring at the increasingly nervous Hunter. That or he'd noticed the pleading looks Hobbs was sending Gray that Will had caught out of the corner of his eye. What could Gray even do? Will wondered. Grief was personal, and it had to be dealt with gradually. You couldn't just force a person to cheer up and move on. Considering the circumstances, the process was going to take longer and be much more painful for Will to deal with. Still, he couldn't just take it out on the others and he knew that the way he felt at present, he was one more surreptitious glance away from snapping at them.

Will glanced down at his untouched eggs, bacon, and muffins. His eyes briefly skimmed his cooling cup of cocoa, what remained of the marshmallows floating in a sticky mess on top, before he sighed and rose to his feet. He was already heading for the doors as Gray rose from his spot to follow him. Ignoring the rest of the table, he walked out. Any bitterness at being pitied was gone now. He was too tired to deal with it.

Once outside, Will turned for the garden. Gray caught up to him and they walked in silence for a while. Gray had his hands in his pockets, chewing on his lip. He drew in a breath and turned to face Will, who instantly cut him off.

"The Hunters are going home soon, aren't they?"

The sudden question threw Gray for an instant.

"Uh, yes, some of them," he responded, slowly.

"The ones with families." Will nodded.

"Will—" Gray began.

"Don't. I'm not—Just don't."

"I can't possibly understand. I know that. But I know what it's like to lose someone. I'm not going to tell you what you should do or say meaningless things to try to comfort you, but talking does help. Not much, but a little, and a little is better than nothing. You're not alone, you know."

Will came to a halt, and Gray stopped also. Will placed his hands on his hips, staring at the ground, before raising tired eyes to Gray's.

"I can't talk about it, because I'm not even certain what's happening right now. I'm standing here with nothing. What am I supposed to do now? Can you tell me? There's no funeral to arrange. There are no Hunters anymore, and there won't be for a long time. I have nothing. All I have is memories that I don't want. I don't want to think about it. I _can't_ think about it. The last thing I want to do is talk about it. So please, just let me be. I don't need you pitying me either."

Gray sighed. His defeated look told Will the other man was aware that he couldn't do anything to help. What was there to say? Will was lost. They all were. Without hunting, they didn't have much else, and now Will didn't have a family to go home to. It would be a while before he wanted to go back to that house again, if he ever could.

"I'm going inside," Will announced, turning.

"To do what?" Gray asked.

"I'll know when I'm doing it," Will called over his shoulder, as he walked away.

* * *

><p>In the end, Will found himself looking over his journal. He wasn't sure why. His room had seemed like the only place to go. The journal was sitting there on the desk, so he had picked it up and begun to flip through the pages. It was one of the few items he'd requested to have brought to him from the house during his first few days here, while he was recovering from his injuries after the fire. He read through his notes, slowing down as he reached the last few entries. They were all about Angelus, and various plans he had contrived and dismissed for hunting the monster down. He knew none of them would work. If he had gone up against Angelus he would have died, but he hadn't cared. So what had changed? Did he really have nothing left to lose after all?<p>

The words began to blur into meaningless black dots and streaks across the page and he snapped the book shut, tossing it back down onto the desk. He glanced at the clock. It was approaching one o' clock. Will wondered if time could possibly pass any slower as endless seconds ticked away. Was this what it was like to be immortal? Just watching every moment drag by while you were stuck with your own destructive thoughts? Is that why those monsters did what they did? Passing time?

Deciding he needed another distraction, Will got up and headed to Charlie's room. There was a chance the other man might be awake, and if not, he could at least check on him and see how he was doing. He had been near death the last time Will had seen him, and he felt responsible for his stable-hand's suffering. He'd saved him once, only to put his life in more danger by allowing him to work for him, and become a contact amongst other Hunters.

He entered Charlie's room quietly and made his way over to the bed. Charlie was pale, his breath raspy. His neck was bandaged, two small dots of red in the gauze showing where the fangs had torn his flesh. Will sank slowly into a nearby chair and watched Charlie's chest rise and fall, each wheezing breath making him wince at the painful sound.

"Master William?" a shaky voice asked, jerking Will out of his musings.

He looked up to find Charlie's eyes open, watching him.

"Charlie. You're awake. I didn't mean to disturb you," Will said apologetically.

Charlie shook his head. "You didn't, sir. I've been waking up every so often for a little while. It's nice to see someone here for a change."

"If you want to sleep, go right ahead. Don't let me stop you. I just wanted to see how you were."

"I'm alive. After that, I don't know. They're all gone, aren't they, sir?" Charlie asked, his questioning eyes staring into Will's.

"Yes."

"What happens now, sir? Do we…are you going back to the house?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I don't think so. Right now, I can't see myself going back there again, but I just don't know. You, on the other hand, shouldn't. When you recover, I want you to find somewhere safe, away from all this."

"Are you dismissing me, sir?" Charlie asked, attempting to sit up but failing.

"It's not like that. Well, in a way I suppose it is, but it's what's best for you. You almost died because of me. All those people are dead because they worked for me, and I don't want you in any more danger. You'll be safer somewhere else if you forget about Hunters and just find yourself a normal job."

"You saved my life, sir. If it wasn't for you, I'd have been dead a long time ago," Charlie argued, stubbornly.

"And you've served me well ever since. I put you in a dangerous position making you a contact and messenger for the Hunters. You've more than repaid your debt to me. Things are different now. Angelus has made me a target for his own twisted amusement. He's toying with me, challenging me, and in the process he's hurting everyone who has a connection to me. It's not safe for anyone to be around me anymore."

It was only after he'd said it out loud that he realized how true those words were. Anyone near him would be in danger now. Who knew if it would even be safe here at the estate any longer? Angelus was patient when it came to torturing his victims, but how long would he wait before he got bored and decided to attack Will again? How safe was the estate? Just because the staff knew the truth about demons and vampires didn't mean the place was protected. There was always a way for a beast who was determined enough. Plus, once they left the security of the estate, Hobbs and Gray would be in even more danger. They were the closest friends he had, and the closest thing to a family he had left.

"So then, what are you going to do, sir? I know you well enough to know you aren't just going to wait for him to kill you." Charlie's words pulled Will out of his thoughts.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do, but you're right. I won't just sit and wait. You concentrate on healing. I'll let you get some rest now." Will stood up to leave.

"Whatever insane thing you do end up doing, please sir, make sure it works?" Charlie said, as Will reached for the handle.

Will looked back over his shoulder and smiled at the stable hand before walking out, shutting the door gently behind him.

* * *

><p>Hobbs was just exiting the training room downstairs when someone began pounding on the front door. Curious and wary as to whom it could be considering the late hour, he watched as the door was opened by one of the servants to reveal the Council messenger, looking quite disheveled. The man stumbled inside, trying to catch his breath as the door was closed behind him.<p>

"I must inform the remaining Hunters at once."

Hobbs stepped forward, feeling uneasy at the messenger's announcement.

"What is it? What's happened?" Hobbs asked.

The messenger turned to him, startled, but recovered quickly.

"It's terrible news. The Council sent me here to warn you all. The Hunters who returned home, they've all been killed. Their entire families were slaughtered by vampires. It's horrific. There's talk of a vicious animal prowling London. People are terrified to leave their homes."

"They all were…I have to tell the others, excuse me." Hobbs hurried up the stairs and down the corridor to Gray's room, leaving the messenger with the staff.

_This can't be happening. It really is war, and we're the last Hunters left._

"Gray, open up, now!" Hobbs shouted, banging on the door loudly.

It swung open and he stumbled inside, past a shocked and confused Gray.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Gray asked, just about to shut the door when a hand slammed against the wood, stopping its progress.

They turned to see Will standing in the doorway, one hand on the door, the other against the doorframe. He had his glasses on still, suggesting he'd been reading in his room instead of preparing for bed, a typical habit of his. Hobbs wasn't sure he'd slept much since that first night he'd collapsed from physical and emotional exhaustion. He must have heard Hobbs pounding on the door.

Will entered the room, casting a quick concerned glance at Gray as he walked by him, and Gray shook his head, shutting the door. Hobbs paced up and down. Eventually, he turned to face his worried and confused friends, taking a deep breath.

"It's not going to end. We're lucky we've survived this long. It really is war. They're annihilating us, and they won't stop until every Hunter in London is dead."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Will demanded.

"The Hunters who went home, they were waiting for them—the vampires. They slaughtered their families too. The last Hunters alive in London are the ones in this house, and judging by the way things are going, we won't be safe here much longer."

Hobbs watched the two men absorb the information, a little stunned, then quickly realizing how precarious their situation was, they looked back up, ready to dive into more questioning. Hobbs silenced them with a raised hand.

"I don't know any more. The messenger downstairs told me what happened and I came straight here to tell you. Does it matter what the details were? It was a trap. They waited. They found out when the Hunters were returning home and killed them. We have to accept the fact that sooner or later they're going to come after us too. Either they'll wait until we leave, or they'll come for us here."

"The city is already theirs. They must know we wouldn't come after them. There's no way we could attack them in the state we're in, so why kill us off?" Gray had chosen not to look at Will as he spoke, both Hobbs and he knowing that the other man hadn't quite given up the hunt just yet.

"They're making sure word gets out that this city is theirs. It's another of their infamous acts that will go down in history. No Hunter will come here now, knowing they'll be targeted the way we've been. The Hunters of London won't be rebuilt for years, and most likely not until the Scourge of Europe has moved on. The Council will probably just stay out of their way," Will spoke up, falling into a nearby chair.

"Or maybe they'll finally see sense and send the Slayer here," Hobbs suggested.

"Maybe they will at that," was Will's only response.

"Well, what are we going to do? We can't stay here waiting for Angelus to get bored and attack us, and chances are if we leave, we'll be walking straight into another trap." Gray pointed out.

"Stay, go, doesn't really matter now, does it? Either way, Angelus wants us dead. Fight, don't fight, it doesn't seem to make much difference what we do. I hate to say it chaps, but we're dead men walking," Will said, letting his head drop back so he was staring at the ceiling.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gray exploded.

"What do you mean?" Will asked, tilting his head sideways so he could glance at Gray.

"You! You're sitting there as if you're resigned to your fate, and this entire time all you've done is work yourself to the bone coming up with a plan to get even with Angelus. Now what, you've finally realized that going up against him is suicide so you're just going to sit here and wait for him to come to you?"

"Make up your mind, Gray. You're upset because I want to take Angelus down then you're angry because I don't. It's very confusing." Will's voice held the same tired and uninterested tone it had since he first spoke.

"That's perfect, Will. Just give up. That's very helpful."

"What do you want me to say? You didn't want to fight before, and I'm just agreeing that there's nothing we can do, except give them what they want."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" Hobbs asked, folding his arms, knowing full well what Will was saying.

"Me."

"You honestly think giving yourself up to Angelus will save anyone left here?" Gray asked in disbelief.

"No, but I think it could distract him long enough for you to do some hunting of your own."

"What?" Hobbs asked, losing track of what Will meant.

Will sighed and sat up straight again, giving both his friends a resolute and determined stare.

"Someone knows too much about us, and whoever it is must be someone either we or the Council trust a little too much. We never found out who was spreading that rumor about fledges that had us walking into traps. Whoever it was informed them of the meeting at the barn and that we survived. They also know where we are and what our movements are."

"So you're suggesting we find whoever it is that's working with the vampires and put a stop to them." Gray said.

"If their source of information is eliminated it might give the rest of you a chance to escape before they can come after you. To get to safety, somewhere where there's Hunters. Then you can start re-organizing and get a faction together that might be able to take the city back." Will confirmed.

"Wait, wait, wait, the rest of us? So Gray and I hunt down this traitor, and you walk straight into Angelus' lair?"

"He's eliminating Hunters, but he's also trying to lure me out. He wants to destroy everything that stands for good in this city and he seems to have a vendetta against me, judging from all those trials he's put me through." Will lowered his eyes, growing quiet. "What he's done. To Mo— " He broke off and raised his eyes again. "It stands to reason that he wants to make an example of me, to torture me before he kills me. He's taken everything I have, and he has us backed into a corner. Either I go to him, now, or he comes here and kills all of us. At least this way, you lot have a chance to survive and make sure this doesn't happen again."

"And what makes you think you'll even live long enough for us to make a move?" Hobbs snapped.

"I don't think even Angelus expects me to be stupid enough to come after him alone so soon after the latest attack. Even if he does, he's put too much effort into luring me out. He's made his move, and now it's up to me. I go out, fight my battle, and you get the hell out of here."

"And you die," Gray said, quietly.

"Most likely."

"Well, excuse me if I'm not too keen on that plan, Will," Hobbs argued, irritably.

"Hobbs, look at me. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, tired of hiding. We don't have a choice. This is the only way you even stand a chance. I'm not walking out there with my hands up. I intend to fight to my last breath, but we all know the odds aren't good, at least this way it'll be over."

_And on my own terms_, he thought, soberly.

"I can't believe we're actually discussing this." Gray muttered.

"Believe it."

"I'd rather we all went. Maybe we can kill him. If we get him alone, he's just one vampire, we might manage it," Hobbs put in, desperately trying to change Will's mind.

Will remained silent and any hope Hobbs had left in him died. That wouldn't work, they all knew it. Certainly, any of them could get lucky, as Will had on his first trip out with them, but it was doubtful, and they couldn't count on luck. Will had been planning revenge for months now. He'd obviously decided that it was time he acted on those plans. What else could they do?

"When?" Gray asked, resigned to Will's choice.

"As soon as possible. Let me know whenever you can be ready to leave. I've been training every day and I have plenty of weapons on hand. I'll head out and spread the word, not that I'll have to if that spy remains as efficient as he has been. I'll track down some of Angelus' minions, stake them and make sure he knows where I am. Then we can finish this once and for all."

"I don't like this." Hobbs muttered.

"None of us do." Gray added, irritated. "But Will's right. We don't have a choice."

* * *

><p>They sat there in gloomy silence for a while, none of them speaking or looking at each other, before Gray let out a loud sigh and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door.<p>

"Where are you off to?" Will asked.

"I'm going to find that messenger and get all the details he has then inform the others. They need to know. Leaving here isn't safe, and neither is staying, but if they leave now there's an even greater risk. I'll tell them what we're planning. They can help us hunt down the spy if they want."

Gray left the room quickly, walking down the corridor. He paused at the top of the stairs. This was it. He was really going to lose his friends. Even if they did have a chance to get far enough away to begin a search for the traitor, it was doubtful Angelus wouldn't have told his minions to go after them, and there was always Darla and Drusilla to consider. Things were safe for none of them, but one thing he was sure of was that Will would be the first to die. The frightened little Watcher trainee was long gone and soon, the Hunter prodigy would be too.


	9. Unexpected Changes

**Unexpected Changes**

_London 1880_

_October..._

He waited in the shadows of the darkened alley, moonlight painting the London streets with an eerie blue glow. A dog barked nearby, and he could hear the faint clatter of carriages moving along the cobbled streets. He continued to wait patiently.

Standing in a darkened doorway, he was invisible to anyone who might walk down the street, while he would have a perfect view of them. A rat scurried along the footpath and ran underneath the door of a shop further along the narrow alley. The faint sound of voices reached his ears and he turned his head towards the sound. Two men entered the alley with a woman between them. She was flirting shamelessly with them, and he guessed they had found themselves a whore to play with. Pickings must be slim after all the recent attacks.

He waited as they led the woman out of sight of the main road, and shoved her against a wall. She was a little startled and tried to shove them back, but they refused to move, instead closing in on her. Stepping out of his hiding place soundlessly, unnoticed as the woman's struggles grew more desperate, he approached. She screamed, and as they laughed, he revealed his presence.

"Hardly an ideal choice for a meal is she? Why don't you turn your attention to someone with a bit more fight in them?"

They turned at the sound of his voice, and the woman screamed louder. One of the men stepped closer to him, and in the light of the moon, allowed his features to shift.

"A Hunter is it? I thought we got rid of you lot already. You must not have heard. Angelus owns London, and any Hunters who set foot here die."

"I'm well aware of what's been happening. If every Hunter dies you shouldn't have any problem taking care of me then, should you?"

The vampire snarled and attacked. His companion released the frightened woman, who stumbled back in shock, before her flight instinct kicked in and she ran, leaving the three shadowy figures to their fight. The second vampire was just about to attack, when he saw his associate vanish in a cloud of dust. He did a double take before realizing the Hunter was getting closer to him. Growling, he swung a powerful fist at his opponent's head, missed, and found himself shoved against the alley wall, a stake pressing dangerously close to his heart and an arm across his throat pinning him.

"Where is Angelus?" the Hunter demanded.

"I don't know," the vampire hissed.

"Then you're of no use to me." The stake pressed further into the vampire's chest, piercing the skin.

"No, wait, stop! I might know something that could help you."

"Might you now?"

"If you let me live, I'll tell you."

The pressure of the stake eased slightly.

"Talk."

"They were staying at the Royal London Hotel, but they've moved on. I don't know where exactly, but I heard it's somewhere fancy, the home of a Lord, I think. I don't know the name. There's a party tonight. He'll probably be there. Someone called Patton is hosting it."

"That'll be very helpful. I appreciate it."

"You're crazy to go after him. He'll skin you alive. No Hunter can stop Angelus or his family."

"So I've heard, but then he's never fixated on a Hunter the way he has on me for some reason. I think it's time I pay him a visit. After all, he's called on all my associates—and my family."

The vampire's eyes widened comically.

"You? You're—"

Will cut him off and drove the stake into the thing's heart without a second thought. The vampire stared down at the stake in shock, then back at Will.

"But I told you—" The vampire broke off, his form crumbling before Will's eyes.

"And I never made that promise." Will pulled the stake back out and watched the dust drift to the ground.

He knew the man hosting the party, and he knew the location as well. It was an annual affair that Will had attended several times. He crept away into the shadows. Angelus' spies would be searching for him once they discovered that Will had left the house. It would be better for him to confront his foe now, at this party. It was unlikely he'd have his minions attend such an event, although Will would have to be wary of Darla and Drusilla. Both could very well be in attendance.

* * *

><p>Angelus sipped his champagne and observed the crowd gathered at the party. Darla was in a far corner talking to a gentleman who was clearly enraptured by the blonde beauty. Angelus caught her eye and they shared a smile. He turned his attention back to the crowd and found Drusilla on the dance floor, scandalizing the guests as she danced in a risqué fashion with a gentleman she had enthralled. He watched her move with her partner and took another long sip of his champagne.<p>

His women had found their companions for the night. It was time he did the same. They would have their fun then lure them to some unseen corner to feed on before returning home together. As he moved through the crowd, he flicked his eyes from one guest to another in search of the ideal prey. They settled on a young girl, probably about seventeen or so, sitting alone watching the couples dancing. She was a pretty little thing with black hair and brown eyes; a little thin but not overly so, and she was innocent. Angelus could sense it the way a shark smells blood. He drained his glass and left it on a nearby table, making his approach.

* * *

><p>Drusilla ceased dancing, her gaze drifting over to the adjoining room. Her dance partner continued to stare at her as if she were the only one in the room.<p>

"What is it my dear?" he asked, his thumb caressing one elegant gloved hand, while the other ran up and down her back.

"Someone has come to play with Daddy. The Prince will soon be here." She turned back to him, a smile spreading across her face.

She led him into another dance, the presence she had sensed heightening her cheerful mood, causing her to dance with even more passion than she had previously.

* * *

><p>Angelus sat next to the girl he'd chosen and turned his eyes to the couples on the floor again. He didn't miss the way she turned her head to take him in, nor the blush that spread across her face as she quickly turned away again.<p>

"I have to wonder just why it is that such a beauty is sitting here all alone instead of dancing the night away like those ladies out there," he said, turning on the charm, his Irish brogue thick, making her blush furiously as she looked at him again.

He faced her and offered a disarming smile, to which she responded by lowering her gaze quickly.

"I couldn't stand to see a lady missing out on the night's fun. Would you care to dance, miss?" He held out a hand, invitingly.

"I—well, that is—" she stammered.

She looked around her, as if for reassurance, but no one was paying any attention to them.

"Miss?" She turned back to him and he stared intently at her.

Never blinking, her unease seemed to melt away. She slowly placed her hand in his, smiling shyly.

"Yes, Sir, I would like that very much, thank you."

He grinned and brought her to her feet, leading her in the direction of the dance floor. The night was going perfectly. He may not be as talented as Dru, but Angelus could count on his unusual charm to go a long way with vulnerable young women like this one. Her attention switched from him to Drusilla for a moment, but quickly snapped back to him when he pulled her closer and smiled down at her, leading her into the dance. Casting a quick look around the room, he noticed that Darla and her new friend had disappeared. He smirked to himself, before turning his attention back to his own little plaything. She was completely captivated by him. His fangs itched and he imagined what she'd look like soon enough, writhing beneath him in agony and fear, while he buried himself in her, his fangs tasting the sweet young life that flowed through her veins.

He was so focused on these thoughts that it took him a moment to realize his senses were bristling warningly. Frowning, he scanned the room, but could see no reason why he should suspect a threat. He focused harder. The smell of the crowd's intoxication and arousal mixed with the sweat of their bodies was making it difficult, but eventually he caught it; a vaguely familiar scent.

"Is something the matter?" the girl asked, looking at him with concern.

"No, nothing. I thought I saw someone I used to know, but I must have been mistaken. Come, let's get some air and we can talk more. It's getting crowded in here." He didn't wait for her reply, but guided her off the floor and through crowded rooms, taking the long way to the terrace, hoping to pinpoint the scent he wasn't sure he'd really caught.

They made it to the terrace without any sign of the Hunter Angelus thought was present. Angelus prided himself on his patience in a hunt. Perhaps it was the anticipation of facing the vengeful Hunter that explained why he thought he'd sensed him here. They nudged their way through the people standing near the door outside where they could view the garden.

"Are you all right?" the girl asked when he came to a halt on the terrace, taking in the cool night air.

He turned to her with a reassuring smile. Taking hold of her elbow, he guided her to stand beside him next to the railing.

"Perfectly fine, now I get to enjoy your company out here on this fine evening. Tell me, my dear, what is your name?"

She blushed again. He was being too familiar by society's standards, but she was clearly unused to such interest, and he knew she would never turn away from his attentions, as long as he remained respectful—which he would, for now.

"It's Ethel, Ethel Holiday. And you are?"

"Ethel. What a charming name for such a lovely creature." He grinned again, a little more wolfishly.

He was moving steadily closer to her, pressing her against the railing, enjoying the suddenly anxious look crossing her face when he felt something hard smash against his back and something wet began soaking into his coat. It began to sizzle and smoke and he yelped in pain realizing he'd just been splashed with holy water. He leaped away from Ethel, who jumped as well and darted away from him, watching wide eyed as he struggled out of his jacket, smoke rising from both his back and the discarded garment. The small group of guests gathered behind them backed away from him quickly, their eyes wide. He looked up snarling and they parted like the red sea, turning anxious eyes to a man behind them in the narrow doorway.

"I think you should go back inside, Miss. The gentleman and I have something to discuss."

Angelus scowled at Will who stood opposite him, clutching another bottle of holy water in one hand, no doubt having hurled the first over the crowd when he saw Angelus closing in on the girl. His other hand was hidden behind his back underneath his jacket, no doubt holding a stake which he very well may have attempted to use were it not for the people blocking his path. Angelus consoled himself with the thought that had his attacker gotten closer, his senses would have alerted him to danger sooner. The man looked haggard, and he was lacking his usual spectacles. Ethel's head darted from one to the other as she backed away slowly from the standoff. She reached the doors and with a parting glance at them both, spun and rushed back inside to the party. The small group gathered between the men decided it would be wise to join her and hurried past Will, leaving Angelus and he to their _discussion_.

"I thought I sensed you, boy. Not very smart, coming here and attacking me like this. You don't fear for the crowd's safety then?" Angelus asked, recovering his composure after the sudden attack and smirking at his adversary.

"The crowd isn't very safe whether I'm here or not. That girl wasn't very safe, was she?" Will responded, calmly.

"Ethel? We were just getting to know each other. She was rather lonely, until I paid her some attention. You've likely gone and ruined the most exciting night of her life."

"I don't doubt it, but somehow I don't think it's the type of excitement she'd like. She's better off alone than in your hands."

"I suppose I can't argue with that. Of course, there's always the risk that I'll massacre everyone here just because of your interruption. Did you like all those little messages I left for you? I was surprised you escaped that fire. You earned some respect for that. I don't waste that kind of artistry on just anyone. How was it, seeing your mother walking about perfectly healthy again? Must have been a dream come true, eh?" Angelus chuckled.

Will tensed, flexing his fists. Angelus was disappointed when he didn't attack. Apparently the boy didn't want to play his game. Angelus stood to his full height, a few inches taller than Will, and smoothed down his shirt.

"Are ya just going to stand there and glare at me all day or are ya going to try something heroic and stupid?"

"I haven't decided yet. I was thinking that this might not be the place for us to resolve this _issue_ between us. I was also contemplating dusting your consorts first. You killed those closest to me, so perhaps I should kill the only creatures that could be considered the equivalent of close to you…" Will slowly brought his stake into sight.

Angelus watched the movement of the stake in Will's hand. He grinned again, meeting Will's gaze once more.

"You think it would hurt me if they died? Vampires don't feel. It would be a shame, having spent as much time with them as I have, but not painful. Besides, do you really think they'd be any easier to kill? Darla is older than I am, and Drusilla has many tricks up her sleeve that would have you powerless in an instant."

"So you're the weak one then?"

Angelus snarled and Will smirked. Angelus had his pride. He didn't like to be goaded.

"Watch your mouth, boy."

"You're awfully confident I came alone, aren't you? Tell me, when did you last see Darla? She's been missing for quite a while now, hasn't she?"

Angelus narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"She's off with her latest conquest. Don't try to trick me, William. It won't help you."

"And you're sure that was just some harmless gentleman she was with? There are still a few Hunters left alive. You've made it clear you aren't going to let any of us live. Do you really doubt that they'd all want to make a last stand? They don't have anything to risk anymore. Far better we do as much damage to you and your companions as possible. You might be old and powerful but you have the same weaknesses any vampire has. Holy water, crosses, sharp pieces of wood all are very effective. I wouldn't be as confident as you that she's safe. Anyone can fall into a trap, Angelus. You just need the right bait, don't you?"

"You're bluffing. Darla wouldn't fall for such tricks, and your Hunter friends are cowards. I saw as much that night at the barn."

"You know nothing about Hunters, Angelus. The ones that are still alive are the ones that have nothing to lose. You're just another threat. They don't fear death."

"Is that so? That's not the impression I got when they begged for their lives in front of me. They pleaded for me to spare them, vowed to give up hunting my kind if only I would allow them to live. Perhaps it's you who doesn't know Hunters. What they're like when they see death in front of them? Unafraid? It's very much the opposite. Maybe what you need is a demonstration." Angelus flew at Will suddenly, taking him by surprise.

Will sidestepped at the last second, leaning back to avoid the vampire's grasp as an arm whipped out to grab him. Angelus halted quickly and spun. Will grabbed another bottle of holy water and tossed it at Angelus who growled and held up a hand to protect his face, skidding to a stop just in time. The bottle fell short of him and smashed on the ground at his feet. Angelus removed the hand from his face as Will struck with the stake. Angelus blocked with his arm, sending Will's arm high and to the side, so that it missed the heart but connected with Angelus' face.

Angelus hissed in pain, allowing Will to maneuver away from him before he could retaliate. Rising back to full height, Angelus lowered his head slightly and glared at Will. He raised a hand and gently touched the wound on his cheek, examining the red wetness on his fingers. He raised the hand to his mouth, licking the blood off his fingers.

"Been a long time since a human made me bleed. Congratulations. But it will be the last bit of demon blood you ever spill."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Angelus struck again and Will dodged, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the kick to his midsection that sent him slamming back against a wall. In the next second Angelus pinned him. One hand gripped Will's wrist and squeezed so tight it broke Will's grip on the stake, sending it clattering to the ground. Angelus' other arm was across Will's windpipe, cutting off his air supply.

"You are really starting to annoy me. I had great plans for you, Hunter, but now you've gone and made me angry. Perhaps a quick death is in the cards for you after all—shame that." Angelus was breathing heavily through flared nostrils for effect.

"Angelus? Isn't this a little out in the open for a crowd you weren't planning on massacring or have those plans changed?"

Angelus turned at the sound of the female voice and saw Darla sauntering towards him, wiping a trickle of red from the corner of her lips. She looked at Will curiously, eyeing him from head to toe before turning back to Angelus for an answer.

"Darla? You didn't run into any trouble?" Angelus asked.

"Trouble? No, none at all. I've been enjoying a rather rich, full-bodied gentleman actually." She replied with a feline smile, adjusting one of her gloves.

Angelus took this in and turned back to Will, an evil smile on his face.

"So you were bluffing after all. I've got to hand it to you, boy, you had me going for a minute. You've got guts, but alas, no brains. Making me cross isn't going to make staking me any easier. It'll actually just make it harder and much worse for you."

"Wait, this is the Hunter you've spent so much time on? I thought he looked vaguely familiar. My, my, all those little gifts of yours got to him at last did they? Rather barbaric to attack during a party if you ask me. I guess it's true what they say about Hunters not having any class, though with a little work he could almost pass for a gentleman." Darla commented with a second glance at Will.

"What now, you kill me in front of all these people and put an end to this?" Will spat out, gasping in as much air as he could.

Angelus grinned and Darla sauntered up behind him to run her hands across his back and over his shoulders then down his arms. Leaning in so her chin rested on one of his shoulders, she gave Will a hungry look, licking her lips.

"Darla, be a dear and fetch Drusilla, would you? I think it's time we went home. This party is starting to bore me, and I know of much better ways we could be spending our time."

Darla started to walk away slowly, keeping her eyes on Will, eating up the anger and hatred pouring off him in waves.

"She still hasn't finished toying with her pet," she said pausing at the door.

Angelus' eyes flickered over to her then back to Will.

"Tell her we have a new pet to play with back home. Something a whole lot better than the weak-willed youth she's been dancing with."

Darla disappeared in search of Drusilla, leaving Angelus and Will alone on the balcony. Will glared at Angelus who pulled Will away from the wall, grabbed both his arms and twisted them behind Will's back in a solid grip.

"We're going to have us some real fun now, boy. Let's see how far I can push you before you break. I'll have you pleading for your life soon enough, and then we'll see if a Hunter doesn't fear death. But you won't get it as easily as they did. First, I'll make you fear it until you'll beg me for it."

Angelus shoved Will forward and soon they were moving through the appalled crowds, shocked at the sight of Angelus without his jacket pushing the ill looking man before him. Once he'd forced Will outside, Angelus dragged him to where Darla and Drusilla were waiting for them near the coaches. Drusilla glided toward Will, stopping just in front of him. She seemed to focus on a spot just above his head. Raising a hand she caressed the air around his face and smiled.

"Such a pretty little plaything. Mummy will have such fun with you. A storm approaches and everything changes tonight."

"Don't call me that," Darla snapped, crossly, folding her arms in a huff.

"We'll all get our fair share of fun with him, Dru, not just Darla. But I have a few lessons to teach him first." Angelus assured his childe, hauling Will up into a coach.

* * *

><p>The smell of death permeated the lavish room as Will was shoved through the house the vampires had nested in. The curtains were drawn to block out the morning sun and bodies lay on the floor, the puncture marks in their necks still relatively fresh.<p>

"I do apologize for the state of our abode, but I wasn't expecting to have you as a guest tonight, and I may have eaten the housekeeping," Angelus said conversationally, shifting into his vampire features as he dragged Will further into the house.

Will refused to answer, struggling uselessly as Angelus easily escorted him downstairs to the cellar. It was pitch black and only the vampire's grip on him prevented Will from falling and breaking his neck on the cellar stairs. Once at the bottom, firm hands spun him around until his back was pressed against a wall, his arms yanked above his head. He felt heavy metal shackles close around his wrists, securing him to the wall. Similar shackles were placed on his ankles and he heard the vampire move away. In the next instant, there was a loud rattling noise and his arms were jerked roughly upward. He cried out as he was pulled so his feet hung a few inches off the floor, his arms straining under the weight of his own body. He groaned in agony, then gritted his teeth, unwilling to give Angelus the satisfaction he craved from Will's pain.

"May as well get used to hanging there like that. You're going to be in that position for a long time." Angelus' voice drifted out of the blackness.

There was the sound of someone striking a match, then a faint flicker of light in the distance. The light grew gradually, until Will could make out Angelus' shadowy form, moving about the room lighting more of the candles in what Will could only assume was to become his torture chamber. Will watched with narrowed eyes as Angelus approached, then veered to the side, coming to a halt near a table covered with a grimy cloth. Angelus lifted the cloth slowly, revealing several very pointy, dangerous looking implements. Judging from the blood staining some of the items, Will supposed he wasn't the first guest to be brought down here since the vampires had made it their home.

"Some of these tools I've had to bring with me on my travels. There are some items you can't find just anywhere. Those barbaric, savage lands abroad people talk about—some of them have the best tools for torture ever envisioned," Anegelus remarked, picking up a nasty blade and running a finger along the razor sharp edge, before laying it reverently back down on the table. "And then, there are the ancient devices used by those who would proclaim themselves deliverers of justice. Religious, pious, and generally upstanding citizens. If I had to choose between the cruelest methods of punishment, I'd have to say they come out on top. Ironic isn't it? Those who see themselves as ideal models of society are actually the most barbaric, monstrous creatures on Earth."

"People are harsh, cruel, vindictive, and flawed, but not all of them. They realize their mistakes and learn from them. We will continue to evolve into better creatures. You vampires and demons are cruel for the sake of being cruel. There's nothing redeeming or innocent in you. You are the mistakes, the true monsters on this Earth," Will answered, grimacing as his shoulders strained with the slight movement of turning to see his persecutor better.

"True, but people will never learn to stop hurting each other. There will always be war, famine, destruction, and all brought about by the hands of men, not demons. You think us savage? We just enjoy the chaos you bring upon yourselves. I use the tools given to me by my demon—" Angelus shifted into his vampiric face again, "but the tools men created are more fun, so I use them too. It can bring so much more pleasure to break a man with their own inventions than it can to use what nature intended.

"You aren't natural. You're an abomination," Will spat, venomously.

Angelus chuckled, shifting back to his human mask as he picked up a rather nasty knife from the table and approached Will.

"Who knows the truth of my origins? I exist the same as any other creature in this miserable world. I could debate theology and science with you all day and it would get us nowhere, but we have more pressing business to attend to."

Angelus proceeded to cut Will's jacket and shirt off, revealing the smooth, muscular skin beneath. He studied the faint scars marring patches of Will's chest. The most noticeable came from the wound Will had sustained in the first trap Angelus had set for him. Examining the blade of the knife again, Angelus met Will's eyes with a smile before quickly slashing the blade across Will's stomach, making a shallow wound, no deeper than a paper cut. Will shouted at the sudden pain, gritting his teeth. Angelus cocked his head to the side as a trail of blood began to rise along the shallow cut, slowly streaming down to trickle across his skin. The smell of blood made Angelus grin with satisfaction and he brought the knife across Will's flesh again, down his side this time. Will was prepared for the second cut and though it stung as much as the first had, he kept his mouth shut and refused to make any noise. This amused Angelus, who proceeded to make cut after cut with the knife.

Each wound was small and shallow, but shockingly painful. Each time Will refused to cry out in pain, but the effort was making him sweat, and the salty liquid stung his wounded body which was now smeared red with his blood. He was breathing heavily and his muscles tensed every time Angelus raised his knife. He sighed in agony when Angelus finally dropped the knife back on the table and wiped his hands with the cloth.

"I think that's enough to get us started tonight. I have women that need seeing to, but we'll pick this up fresh tomorrow." He winked, extinguished the light from the candles and walked back upstairs, leaving Will to hang suspended from his chains, blood and sweat trickling down his body making him cringe and groan in pain.

At that moment Will wasn't sure if it would be better to try to slip into unconsciousness now or struggle to stay awake so that he might be exhausted enough to pass out when Angelus came back for the next lesson in bodily torment. He had a feeling Angelus preferred his victims to stay awake to suffer his torture sessions. Wincing again from the strain on his arms and the maddeningly sore yet shallow cuts that mutilated his body, he doubted if sleep would come to him at all. He only hoped the others had escaped the vampires' clutches and gotten somewhere far away and safe before news of their departure spread. The surprise on Angelus' face at seeing Will was a good sign that their movements hadn't been tracked yet. If everything went according to plan they would now be able to search for the traitor at a safe distance and re-organize the Hunters. Will's own luck had run out.

* * *

><p>The blackness surrounding him in the cellar was stifling and being unable to move wasn't helping him fight his feelings of claustrophobia. Time passed slowly and he wondered if this was one of Angelus' methods of torture; driving his victims insane from hours spent in silent darkness. He was unsure if he had imagined a noise in the distance and listened harder. He could have sworn he heard the swish of cloth, but it was far too dark to see, and he was positive that if someone was moving around down here that it wouldn't be a good thing. Light flickered and drew closer, and squinting at the change in his surroundings, Will finally realized he wasn't alone after all. Drusilla approached him slowly, a candelabra in her hand throwing a yellow light across her ghostly pale skin, her face the only piece of her visible since she was adorned in black.<p>

"Come to have your fun now, have you?" Will asked, hoarsely.

She raised a gloved finger in front of her face and slowly wagged it back and forth before pressing it to her lips. Leaning in closer, she sniffed his blood-stained chest. He leaned away from her as much as the chains would allow, ignoring the pain, but she followed his movements. Her tongue darted out to delicately lick a trail up his chest, lapping up the congealing blood. She hummed to herself, eyes closed, as if savoring his flavor. Opening her eyes, she looked deep into his own then leaned even closer to whisper to him.

"Daddy has his plans for you, but there shall be no unwrapping of the present. Not before the party—naughty Daddy. My Dark Prince must awaken then we shall have such fun together."

"So you've come for a chat then? Just what I needed. An insane vampire for company."

"Hush, brave Knight. I've not come for stories. Tonight, I change the game." She smiled then changed, so that he was faced with yellow eyes that zeroed in on his neck.


	10. Blood

**Blood**

**__**_London 1880_

_October..._

_Dark—dark everywhere. Can't move, can't breathe. Trapped. Struggling. Have to get out. Have to—have to move, need space, stuck. No. Solid all around. Can smell the earth, smell wood—smell, but no breath—can't breathe. Can hear—hear things crawling, moving around, all around. Something—wrong. Can't hear, no, can't **feel** the beating. No rhythmic thump, thump, thump. No flow, all still. Must get out._

_Claw—claw at the surface. Cracking, splintering, smell of copper. Keep going. Soil falling down. Doesn't matter, can't breathe, don't need to breathe. Keep going. I'm breaking… YES! Through! Now climb, dig, dig, dig. Dig upwards. Keep going up. Closer now, so close. Keep going. Now! Smell of grass, smell air, smell mist. Claw, rip up the grass, keep going. There!_

_Out, outside. Brighter, but not day. Night. Can see—see the mist, see the grass, the stone—the hole. Back away. Bad place, not going back there, get away from the earth. Breathe. Don't have to breathe…can breathe, **will** breathe. Noise—carriages, horses, voices, an owl. All so loud! Too much noise, deafening, make it stop! Another voice, closer this time, too close, here. A shape, a figure. Her—it—mother, no, sire._

"And my Dark Knight finally rises. Welcome, my Black Prince. The world is all new now, and I shall lead you in such a pretty dance. A dance of discovery, of pain, of life…of death," Drusilla called, gliding towards her new childe.

_Sire, teacher, master._

"That's it, my boy. Come to Mummy. I'll show you how to feed the burn inside you. Here," she said, squatting down and offering her wrist to the demon sitting before her.

He looked at it for a moment, studying the milky white skin and the blue veins under the surface. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on her offering. His mouth dropped open, exposing sharp, lethal fangs. Drusilla smiled. He snarled and grabbed her wrist, pulling it to his mouth and sinking his fangs into the soft, yielding flesh. She gasped and laughed. Blood poured into his mouth, flooded down his throat, and he sucked and ravaged the delicate skin beneath his fangs for more. It flowed through him.

"Yes, my pet. Feed, remember, awaken."

_Blood! Life—borrowed life. More, need more. So hungry! Flashes—faces, voices, men, women, demons, dust, blood, fire, family, torture, sire, pain, black—all black. Will._

He snarled and pulled away, staggering backwards, wiping the blood from his mouth and looking at the dark liquid coating his fingertips. He looked back at Drusilla, who was licking her bleeding wrist with glee. She grinned and her face shifted.

"Welcome back, my William. Come," she rose to her feet holding both arms out to him, "it's time to feed properly. Let me show you the world again."

* * *

><p>Was he ever really one of them? They flocked around the perceived upper class like sheep, moved through the narrow streets and alleyways like cattle at a slaughterhouse, sat at the feet of their masters like dogs, begging for scraps from society's table. He could smell them: the stench of animals crowded together, the smell of prey. He could hear their hearts beating. The pounding of their pulses drummed a beat in his head that he could have danced to. They were unaware of the wolves amongst them. They brushed against the shoulders of killers without a second thought. It was all so easy, so revolting.<p>

Drusilla observed him silently. She read the expressions on his face: the hunger, the curiosity, the disgust. She leaned into him, one hand around his waist, the other resting on his shoulder as she whispered in his ear.

"You see now, don't you? How pointless it all is. You tried to save them when they aren't worth saving. They have their uses, their pleasures." She growled and licked his neck, humming in satisfaction. "They are for our use, and I have raised you from that desperate existence. I've given you power and new eyes. Your fate is your own now, William; the lock is broken. Play our game, mustn't keep the dollies waiting. The king will be sad if the feast is not prepared." She giggled and spun away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

He glanced at the space where she had disappeared then emerged from his shadowed corner of the street. Stalking slowly down the path he watched everyone that he passed, felt nothing for them. Men taller than him averted their gaze when he made eye contact. Women admired him, then hurried away when his cold eyes met their own. He gave off an air of danger now, a warning to stay away or suffer the consequences. A woman up ahead dropped her bag, her possessions spilling out onto the cobbled street. She bent to pick them up, struggling to avoid being knocked down by the crowd of people walking past her, almost trampling her in their hurry to get to their destination. He tilted his head as he examined her. Making his decision he walked over, and dropping down on one knee, assisted her in picking up her things. She looked up, startled.

"Oh. Thank you, sir. There's no need to trouble yourself, really," she stammered, taking the last of her things from him and returning them to her bag.

They stood at the same time and she met his gaze. He smiled at her, and her eyes widened a little. He could hear her pulse increase. It wasn't a reassuring smile. It was predatory. He felt a slight thrill at her reaction.

"Well, thank you. I-I had best be off. I'm expected back home. G-goodnight."

She bowed her head quickly and shuffled off. He waited: one, two, three, four, five—now. He followed her, making sure to keep just out of sight, eyes trained on her. He noticed with faint amusement that she sensed his presence. She looked over her shoulder every so often, her pace increasing. It didn't take long. Around the next corner she turned off the main street. It left her exposed, but it would make a pursuer easier to see…if the pursuer was human.

He employed his new abilities to swiftly scale a nearby building, and hopped down to a wall that ran alongside her path. He stayed in the shadows and continued to stalk her. Again she turned around, and again quickened her pace. As she reached the end of the street, she turned a corner and could see the lights ahead that signified more people. Sighing in relief, she hurried forward. She was twenty paces away from safety when he pounced.

She screamed when he grabbed her around the waist and shoved her into a dark corner. He covered her mouth and wasted no time, barely catching the frightened recognition in her eyes before his face changed and he dived into her neck. Her muffled cry of pain went unheard as the warm blood entered his mouth. It was amazing. It was so different from Drusilla's blood. He greedily drank it down.

_So warm, so delicious. Life._

It pulsated through him, warming him up from the inside. He felt his strength and senses increasing, sharpening. It truly was an elixir of life, and he wanted it, needed it, _thirsted_ for it. He felt her waning. Her feeble struggles died down, and he could hear her heart fluttering weakly. He pulled the last few mouthfuls of blood from her body then tore away, ripping the flesh of her neck as he did so. Releasing her, he watched the lifeless body slump slowly to the ground, her glassy-eyed stare facing the night sky above. He growled when he sensed a presence behind him, but softened the noise when he realized who it was.

"Well done, my boy. You've made a lovely mess. Such a dainty young thing, so sweet and—mannerly."

He faced his sire, a grin spreading across his now human mask. He walked slowly towards her, stepping into her embrace, his eyes closing in pleasure when she licked at the blood staining his chin and mouth. One of her hands ran through the soft curls of his hair.

"Now you've been fed, I think it's time I show you something else wonderful, something sinful and—effulgent." She brought one of his hands up to caress her breast through her dress. "Would you like that?"

He watched his hand's movements as she guided him, a teasing smile on her face. He sighed happily and nodded, leaning into her. She backed away slowly. His disappointment faded when she crooked a finger at him, her face full of mischief. He smirked and drew closer, following her into the dark night.

* * *

><p>"It's been almost a week. When are you going to give up and just wait for her to come back on her own? You know how she gets. She'll turn up sooner or later, babbling about how the pixies wanted her to have a picnic, or the moon wanted to dance for her or some other nonsense. I really don't understand why it surprises you when she does this." Darla sighed and studied the ring that now adorned her finger. Moments before, she'd pulled it off the corpse at her feet.<p>

"It's because it's _been_ almost a week. Drusilla never stays away this long, not from me. And she didn't just disappear, she did something. She took him," Angelus snarled furiously, pausing his pacing to punch the weakened man tied to a chair next to him.

As soon as he'd discovered the Hunter was missing, he'd known Dru was to blame. He called for her, searched everywhere, but it was as if she'd just vanished. It irritated and infuriated him. She never left his side for more than a night or two, and he was enraged that she would have stolen his prize, something he'd worked hard for. Initially, he'd devised a multitude of ways to punish her for her actions, but as the days passed with no sign of her, he began to wonder if maybe the boy had managed to kill his childe and escape. He swore he'd flay him alive if that were the case, but the Hunter had vanished as thoroughly as Dru had. Needless to say, Angelus was boiling with rage. He'd massacred a small gathering of people they'd stumbled across in a park one night, and he'd taken a few back to the house to work out his frustration. The man in the chair was the last left alive.

"Oh yes, the Hunter. Maybe they killed each other? Either way I doubt you're going to find them now. Can't we move on somewhere else? At least to another city. London's becoming so—boring lately," Darla whined, flopping down into a chair and resting her head on her hand, her other arm draped across its back as she watched him prowl back and forth in front of her.

"We're not moving on until I find her!" Angelus shouted, backhanding his captive and making him groan loudly. "Shut up!"

"I don't think he's coherent enough to pay attention to you, Angelus, and the more you hit him the more noise he'll make," Darla pointed out.

Angelus snarled and stomped back to the man. Grabbing the almost unconscious victim by the head he twisted roughly, snapping his neck and putting an end to his suffering and pitiful moans once and for all. Angelus then resumed his pacing. Darla rolled her eyes.

"I suppose this means we have to go find some more toys for you to play with until you break them?"

He turned on his heel sharply, looming in front of her, annoyed by her constant complaining. He yanked her head back by the hair and growled low in his throat.

"Keep testing me, Darla, and I might just take my anger out on you instead."

"Promises, promises," was her reply, and she smiled lazily at him.

He raised a hand in the air, intending to strike her when a noise at the door caught his attention.

"Oh look, she's back. What a shame," Darla murmured, untangling her hair from Angelus' grip, knowing his attention was elsewhere now.

Angelus faced the door. He could sense Drusilla's presence on the other side. He could also sense that she wasn't alone. She'd brought a companion back with her, and it wasn't a human. He snarled, ready to show both vampires about to enter the room who was in charge. The door swung open and Drusilla stumbled in, giggling hysterically. A strong arm reached forward to wrap around her waist, pulling her back against the man entering the room behind her and Angelus glared at the offensive limb wrapped around his childe.

"And just where have you been off to the past few nights, Dru?" he asked, sternly.

Her giggling ended abruptly, and she pouted slightly as she finally acknowledged her fuming sire.

"Don't be mad, Daddy. I had to take care of my Dark Prince. He's come to look after me, to fuss over me when you're busy hurting Mummy."

"That's what you've been up to? Dru, I would have been more than happy to see to your needs if you'd only asked. Instead you've brought some boy here without my permission. You think I'm going to allow some dog you found on the street to join our family? And what did you do with my Hunter? He was mine, Dru. I had plans for him."

"I know, but the spirits had other plans for him. I haven't lost him. Look. He's my Knight," she said, stepping aside so Angelus could see her companion.

Angelus finally spared the fledgling a glance and did a double take when he realized just who he was looking at. A pair of icy blue eyes glared back at him, flashing amber for a moment before returning to blue. He was dressed in new clothes, acquired from a victim they had pulled off the street, and was now attired in brown trousers, heavy dark brown boots, a somewhat dirty white shirt and a long brown coat. The familiar sandy blonde locks fell around his face, loosely tied at the back. His sharp cheekbones and solid jaw, so characteristic and unique to him seemed somehow different, more predatory perhaps? Drusilla smiled at her sire's shocked expression.

"Such fun now _he_ joins our family. Haven't I surprised you, Daddy? I think you'll find he's far more special than a street urchin. There's much more fight in him too. He's a naughty one he is, a big, bad dog. Rrrruff." She barked into her new childe's ear, running a hand along his chest and scratching her nails down the fabric of his shirt.

Angelus was too shocked to speak at first, his former victim holding his gaze without blinking, not even turning away to Drusilla's attentions.

"Well, this is certainly interesting," Darla commented, stepping up beside Angelus to get a closer look at the newest Aurelian.

Finally Angelus regained the power of speech—and exploded.

"You _turned_ him? Dru, I know I rattled your head up a fair bit, but I honestly never thought you were _this_ crazy! He's a Hunter! We don't turn his kind, especially not this one, just like we don't turn Slayers. Why the hell did you pick him? I would have given you anyone, and you turned _him_?"

"Tsk, tsk. He was not meant to die in a dungeon all broken and bruised in the dark. This one is going to play in the sunshine. He's going to storm across the pages of history in blood and legend and torment. My brave boy is going to burn as bright as the light he extinguishes. Roses sang to me and told me their secrets."

"I can't believe this," Angelus muttered, wiping a hand over his face.

"Well what are we going to do with him?" Darla asked. "She wants to keep him, and I don't think she'll give him up easily. Like it or not he's part of our line now. Who knows? Maybe he'll be of some use. We already know he can fight, and he has a killer's instincts. I take it you fed him?" She addressed Drusilla with her last question.

"Oh yes. He made a terrible mess. The poor girl cried but no one could hear her. He drank her down and left her for the gutter rats."

"There, you see? He's fed already. The bloodlust is there, and he has no problem acting on it. All he needs is the right—encouragement and he'll be just like the rest of us," Darla said, putting a hand on Angelus' arm to make him face her.

Angelus considered her words, knowing Darla didn't care either way, but she'd be much happier with someone around to give Drusilla the attention she required, and was more than willing to pass the crazy vampiress over to someone else. He didn't like the thought of allowing a turned Hunter to join their group, but it was a fair point that he was a killer at heart. Darla was right. With the right guidance, maybe he could become a fearsome predator like the rest of them, worthy to appear in the history books, weaving a path of terror and bloodshed through the ages as Drusilla claimed. The idea began to intrigue him the more he considered it. It could be interesting having another male around to slaughter innocents with. Of course he'd have to ensure the boy's insolence was beaten out of him. Angelus didn't like the way he was staring at him, as though he didn't fear him. Angelus was someone to be feared. He would impart that lesson sooner rather than later.

"A killer, eh? Let's get a look at you then, boy. You've spilled enough demon blood and dust during your years as a mortal, but I wonder if you have the stomach for a good massacre as we do?" Angelus asked, prowling closer to the fledge, who stiffened but refused to look away.

Standing in front of him, Angelus grabbed the former Hunter's shoulder in a painful grip, squeezing with vampire strength while he smiled at him in a friendly manner. He didn't know whether he should be impressed or disappointed by the lack of a response to his rough treatment.

"What's the matter, lad? Drusilla hasn't cut your tongue out has she? Speak. Let's hear that cultured voice of yours now, _vampire_."

Blue became amber and the young vamp snarled loudly, shoving Angelus' hand off his shoulder and growling. Angelus never flinched, instead narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips as he contemplated the reaction.

"I thought as much. You might be one of us now, well, a vampire at least, but you're not happy about the fact, are you? That Hunter hatred for what you are now is still there, hidden deep down beneath the demon, isn't it? Only now that hatred is turned back on yourself. You had too strong a will for it to break just because you were turned."

Angelus' arm shot out, grabbing the young vamp by the throat and lifting him up off the floor. The fledge struggled in Angelus' grip, thrashing and snarling, but the older vampire was determined to teach the upstart a few things if he was about to join them.

"That is why we don't turn your kind or Slayers if we can help it, unless they're weak-willed that is. There's too much righteousness in your veins to enjoy the freedom of the demon. Killing the innocent just hasn't the same thrill for you as it does for the rest of us, which is a shame because since vampires don't feel anything but the excitement and satisfaction of a good hunt, it means that you feel nothing at all, except disgust for everything around you, and most of all for yourself. Of course, just because you don't enjoy killing doesn't mean you won't kill." Angelus dropped the fledge and walked away.

He heard the other vamp rising from the floor, growling sinisterly before attacking. He turned at the last second and brought his fist to the fledgling's gut, stalling him long enough for Angelus to sweep his feet out from under him and send him sprawling to the floor. In an instant, Angelus had reached the chair containing the dead man's body and snapped a leg off the chair, ignoring the corpse as it and the three legged chair fell sideways to the carpet. He brought the stake to his opponent's chest and held it firm, staring into the hate filled gold eyes.

"I should kill you right now and put an end to your miserable existence once and for all. The reasons I won't do that are one, because Drusilla wouldn't like me to harm her new pet and I'd have to replace you, two, a bit of male company would make an agreeable change no matter how charming the ladies are, and three, because that would be giving you what you desire most and I'm just not that charitable."

Angelus tossed the stake away and rose to tower over Drusilla's new toy. Darla and the dark-haired vampiress looked on from a nearby corner, mildly curious about the male posturing.

"I'm not the thing you hate most anymore. It's too bad you no longer have a reflection, but I suppose at least you don't have to look at yourself every day, thinking of all those dirty deeds of yours. I enjoy misery, it's a well documented fact," Angelus said, in his thick Irish brogue. "I'm going to enjoy yours for as long as possible. So if you really want to put an end to all those horrors you've been facing, I suggest you meet the sunrise. Otherwise, you put away those teeth until they're wanted, learn your place and just maybe, we'll get along."

Drusilla glided over to stand just behind Angelus, looking down at her Dark Prince with a knowing smile. After a second's pause and the occasional glance at his sire, the boy changed back into his human features and slowly rose from the floor. Standing a few steps back from Angelus, he scowled and lowered his gaze a fraction. It was enough for now. Angelus had plenty of time to beat the lesson into him.

"Smart move, boyo. Now, since you've already fed and it's daylight out, I suggest you clean up that mess," Angelus jerked his head in the direction of the dead bodies strewn about the floor, "before it starts to reek in here then get some rest for the night ahead. I'm going to teach you a few things about being one of us. By the time I'm through with you, William, you'll be one of the most feared and perverted killers in history…that or dust."

Angelus watched his reluctant new pupil back away and turn his attention to the bodies cluttering up the floor. He made sure the boy was doing as he was told then spun around to Drusilla and quickly grabbed her around the waist, pressing her up against his chest roughly.

"You've been a very bad girl, Dru. I think punishment is in order."

Angelus smirked at the sound of a warning growl behind him and raised his other hand to stroke Drusilla's face in a gentle caress. Drusilla purred appreciatively and leaned in so her face was inches away from his own.

"Daddy mustn't be cross. You'll see what a lovely star I've made. It shimmers from the blackness like a tiny spark that burns with a blinding passion, but hides in the presence of the blazing sun. It will all come tumbling down like a house of cards."

She seemed to drift away in her thoughts, staring past Angelus and into the distance. He sighed and released her. She stood there in a daze, her head cocked to one side and an awed smile graced her lips. Angelus shook his head and walked off in search of Darla. The boy had two bodies, one over each shoulder, and was leaving to dump them downstairs, out of sight and out of mind. Darla was in the bedroom sorting through an array of expensive looking dresses. Angelus sat on the bed and watched her.

"You still think it's a mistake don't you," she stated, disinterestedly.

"We don't turn those who kill our kind Darla, and we don't turn people like him, with beliefs as strong as his were."

"You mean people like he _was_, he's not human anymore. Besides," she turned to face him, dropping the dress in her hands to the floor, "he's already past saving himself. He's become a killer, and he will kill. After his first kill he proved that we don't have anything to worry about. You can show him who's in charge and he'll keep Drusilla happy. It seems like a good arrangement to me."

She fell down onto the bed on her back and stretched her arms out behind her, heaving her bosom upwards which Angelus took full notice of.

"Now that they've returned can we leave this dreary place?"

Angelus leaned back so he rested on one arm beside her.

"I suppose, but I don't want to leave London just yet. There's a couple of loose ends I want to tie up first, and I need to make sure he can keep himself alive if he gets into trouble before we take him with us. Give me a week, two at the most and we'll go anywhere that you desire, I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing, Angelus, and neither does your word. Just do what you have to and then take me out of this place or I'll go somewhere my desires will always be met."

Angelus snarled and sat up angrily.

"You'd really leave and go back to him, wouldn't you?"

Darla grinned and rose up from the bed, running a hand smoothly along his back.

"You know I would. You promised to show me the world, Angelus. Don't expect me to remain in the squalor of London because you're too caught up in your games to leave."

She stood and went back to sorting through her dresses. Angelus watched her in annoyance. He knew she meant what she said. He was in no hurry to leave, but didn't like to think he might lose her to the Master so easily. He'd just have to do as she said and put an end to his games then get them all out of here, with just enough horror in his wake for them to live up to their fame.


	11. Lessons

**Lessons**

**__**_London 1880_

_November..._

Angelus had absolutely no interest in being a father figure. Drusilla was his pride as a vampire. She was his masterful creation, and he enjoyed showcasing her as an example of his finest work. He had a certain—_feeling_ for her. It wasn't affection; that would be the wrong word, because he didn't care for anyone. No, she was his. She was his property and he considered her the same way a wealthy gentleman might consider his finest horse or piece of art or his favorite gun dog. He would be deeply angered if anything happened to her, but not saddened. As such, he was in no way interested in playing the responsible role of a father to the fledgling vamp she'd brought home, regardless of his origins. However, he had come to realize, grudgingly of course, that a young protégé might be just what he needed. Besides, Angelus was known for being a bit of a deviant, having another man around might have a few benefits. As much as he hated the fact that the Hunter had become an unwilling member of his family, and as well as he knew William, as he insisted on being called, hated being under Angelus' thumb, he was beginning to enjoy training the boy.

A few days had passed since Drusilla's shocking return home and Angelus had insisted on taking William out with him every night to learn how to be a proper vampire while the ladies had their own fun. Drusilla pouted a bit about being separated from her "Prince" but soon cheered up when Darla informed her that due to this arrangement they would be able to attend many more dances and frequent the theatres more often. Angelus had to put up with the usual aggressive display from the young fledge at first, as he put up a futile struggle for dominance. A few quick beatings soon put an end to that behavior.

However, while most new vampires quickly acquiesced to their sire's wishes at that point, William continued to resist in his own persistently irritating way. Instead of lashing out or leaving the group, he remained silent, never once speaking even if he was yelled at or beaten. The boy spoke only to Drusilla. Darla may have enjoyed the silence but it annoyed Angelus, who liked to hear the usual whimpers and pleas he had come to expect from others. It was incredibly frustrating to teach someone when they never responded, and he was never sure if William was ignoring him or paying attention to what he was being told.

"I'd like to see you do some work of your own tonight, boy. I can't keep you under my wing forever. I want to see you do it right this time. We aren't savages after all, at least not in that manner of speaking. There is savagery involved, but the right amount, and you've been sorely lacking it."

Angelus glanced over at his companion and was unsurprised to note that William was staring fixedly at the path ahead, his mouth in a tight line, not even blinking to suggest he'd acknowledged Angelus' words. Shaking his head, Angelus continued to stride down the street, hands in his pockets, inhaling the cold night air with its pungent odor of city life. He had been trying to teach William the correct way to kill. Essentially, he was trying to pass on the art that had given him and his family such a noted reputation worldwide. William was, in his own uniquely frustrating way, rebelling against what he was being taught.

He ended a kill too quickly. He stalked, grabbed, drank, and dumped a body just like a common minion instead of toying with a victim psychologically, torturing them until they begged to be killed before releasing them from their torment at last. Nothing Angelus did worked to alter the former Hunter's behavior either. He had once dragged him back to the cellar and tortured him again, going further than last time, introducing William to the hot poker, one of his favorite tools, but the stubborn youngster refused to budge, merely wincing and releasing one or two uncontrollable gasps or cries of pain before gritting his teeth and bearing it with a hated stare at his tutor. The fledge was resilient, Angelus would give him that. Still, the more determined the boy was to resist, the more fun Angelus was having trying to break him.

"I'm serious, William. I'll have to re-think allowing Dru to keep you if you continue to let her down like this. She promised me you would be a mighty killer. Told me you had a blood-lust and violence in you that would match my own. I have to say, I don't see it, but then I suppose it's just another example of how crazy I really drove her, isn't it?"

And there it was. William flinched, just for a second, his fists tightening before relaxing at his sides once more. If Angelus hadn't been studying him intently, searching for that reaction, he never would have noticed it. William's behavior puzzled him if nothing else. At first he had been looking for some tell-tale sign that he was getting to the boy or that he was going to be attacked again. Hell, he'd been looking for any sign that he was affecting the closed off creature at all since he'd taken him in. He was intrigued when he'd discovered this reaction, one that only occurred when Angelus talked about Drusilla, or more specifically when he talked about what he'd done to her or would do to her.

It wasn't unusual for vampires to be protective of their sires, especially when that sire was their mate. Angelus would tear the head off anyone who touched Darla, for instance, but as aggressive as they could be they always knew their place. Of course, he had usurped the Master and lured Darla away from him, but dealing with old Batface had been different. Besides, William only flinched or showed barely restrained aggression upon mentioning Drusilla's torture or the methods by which Angelus drove her insane. If he didn't know better, Angelus would almost describe it as protectiveness grown out of affection for the dark-haired beauty.

It was as if William felt sympathetic to what Drusilla had gone through and harbored more hate towards Angelus for the chaos he'd created in her mind than he did for his own beatings. That was, of course, preposterous. Vampires didn't feel and they certainly didn't show sympathy; the fledgling was even less capable of showing emotion than other vampires because of his own self-loathing, so to suggest he actually cared for his crazy sire was ridiculous. Yet, there was always that reaction, and Angelus was determined to discover the reason for it, especially as William acted like an emotionless piece of machinery the remainder of the time.

They came to a halt in front of a shop on a busy street, casually scanning the passersby. Angelus waited for William to select his target. The younger vamp seemed disinterested in the whole affair, but Angelus knew the thirst would call soon and William would have to feed regardless of how much he disliked the thought. All Angelus had to do was wait, and hope that this time, William would do things right.

Time passed by slowly and Angelus was beginning to tire of William's hesitation when finally, the young vamp perked up and appeared to take notice of someone in the crowd, suddenly stepping away from the shop front to follow his chosen target. Angelus let him go, following a few steps behind. He was somewhat surprised when William entered a late night bookstore in pursuit of his quarry. It was never smart to enter into such close proximity with your prey before you had a suitable spot to attack, and a shop was hardly a discreet location to kill someone. Pausing outside, debating William's actions, Angelus sighed and followed him into the store, wondering what could possibly have possessed the vamp to get so close to his supposed victim.

The small shop was quite crowded and Angelus was taking so much notice of the tasty morsels gathered around him that he almost walked straight into William. Frowning, he leaned into the slightly shorter vampire and spoke quietly into his ear.

"What's this then? Chasing your dinner into a crowded store? This is hardly a smart move, even for you. Would you really go so far in defying me as to expose yourself? You'll be on your own if you do and the only result _that_ leads to is an angry and frightened mob, then dust."

Predictably, William remained silent, continuing to track his prey's movements. Angelus folded his arms and unable to resist any longer, rolled his eyes and leaned in again.

"All right, which one is it? Let's see who you've got your eye on."

Once again, if Angelus hadn't been studying William so intensely he would never have spotted the small jerk of the young vamp's head that indicated the couple across the room, the barest acknowledgment that he'd even heard Angelus. Still, it was progress since he'd actually answered him for once, even in his stubbornly silent manner. Angelus took William's intended victims in: a man and a woman in their early to mid twenties. The man was a dark ash blond and had a handlebar moustache, and the woman had dark brown, almost black, curly hair. They were ordinary looking really, although wealthy enough from the looks of it. Angelus wasn't sure why they would have stood out to William. He was just about to ask, without much hope of getting an answer, when they solved the mystery themselves.

He watched curiously as the couple spotted them and after a brief whispering session, approached with similar smirks of contempt plastered across their faces. It occurred to Angelus that they must know William or they'd known him in his human life. Angelus stepped back a little to give them some space, smiling slightly, interested in the turn the night had and most likely _would_ take. Encountering someone from William's past wasn't something he'd given much consideration before, possibly because he thought he'd killed most of them, but it was definitely something he could work with.

"William, is that you? Where have you been these past few days? I for one haven't noticed you at any of the recent social gatherings that you so often attended before. Not that I ever noticed you at the ones you did attend, but we thought for sure you would have been present at Miss Adams' party," the man said, grinning at his own insult.

Angelus was even more intrigued. It appeared these were not people who knew of William's previous profession as a demon Hunter. Rather it seemed that they saw him as a worthless joke. This made the current situation even more entertaining in his eyes.

"It was my family's gathering, not mine. Come, we should find Miss Blewitt and Harland before we lose track of them again. I knew we shouldn't have bothered coming in here. You're going to make us all late for the performance tonight." The woman was doing her best to ignore William and usher her companion out, but he was having far too much fun to pay her any heed.

William considered the girl Angelus realized must be Miss Adams and was outright staring at her, which was making her shift uncomfortably until the man spoke again.

"Have you lost your manners, William? You do remember it's not polite to stare don't you? Especially at a lady, but then you never could keep your eyes away from Miss Adams could you? Tell me, are you here looking for inspiration? Hoping to find a way to improve that god-awful poetry of yours?"

Angelus couldn't help snapping his head around to stare at William. So the boy wrote poetry did he? Well this was all getting very interesting. The man winked at William while Miss Adams grasped her companion's coat and tried to tug him towards the door.

"Ralph please, we're going to be late I tell you, and I simply can't bear to hear Miss Blewitt go on about the absolute tragedy it will be should she not attend _the_ most talked about opera this year."

Ralph waved her away and continued to mock what he didn't realize was a very dangerous animal right now.

"Everything is the most talked about this year until it passes and then it's the next event. So, William, you've been denying us your special talents of late. Don't tell me Miss Adams has fallen out of your favor." He pretended to gasp in shock. "Oh the horror! Do you hear that Miss Adams? He's forgotten all about you and fallen in love with some other mysterious beauty. Whatever shall you do?" He winked knowingly at William again and laughed at the joke that no one else found funny.

Miss Adams huffed and gave him a stern look, simultaneously begging him with her eyes to leave well enough alone and take her to join their friends. Seeing that he wasn't going to get any further reaction out of William, Ralph gave in.

"Well I suppose we'd better go. Can't miss this wonderful performance after all. Good evening, William. Stay out of trouble, all right?"

He walked away grinning to himself while Miss Adams muttered her displeasure to him all the way to the door. Angelus and William watched them leave quietly, eyes and ears trained on what the couple thought was a private conversation.

"Why must you always provoke matters with him? He finally left me alone and now you've gone and made him think I missed all that twaddle. What happens when he decides to attend the next party?"

"My dear Miss Adams, there's no reason to assume that he will attend any future party merely because of that rather one-sided conversation. Even if he does, what matter? He's easy enough to ignore."

"You want him to be at the next event don't you? Just so you can make fun of him. That's all this is to you. A game, to taunt him for your own amusement, never once considering my feelings. It's terribly vexing to endure his sorrowful eyes, while he spouts terrible sonnets in some highly embarrassing attempt to woo me."

"Oh come, Miss Adams. You really think I enjoy listening to William the Bloody Awful Poet? I swear I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to anymore of that drivel."

The door jingled as it closed behind them. William stared at it and after waiting a moment followed with Angelus close behind. Outside, however, he cast a quick glance in the direction his old acquaintances had gone before turning and walking in the opposite direction. Angelus paused, watching the entertaining idiots walk away before following his grandchilde. Catching up to him, Angelus asked William a very obvious question in an attempt to understand his mysterious family member.

"Why did you let them go? They're old—friends of yours and you just let them mock you and leave. You aren't the pathetic man they seem to think you are any more. In fact you were never as pathetic as they'd believed you to be, so why let them live?"

"Why should it bother me what they think? I know what the truth is and I've been more than they guessed I was for a long time. Let them have their fun. There's no reason to kill them because they're misguided idiots. It just means I was doing a good job of hiding my true identity from them all that time."

Seeing as this was the longest, in fact the _only_ conversation Angelus and William had ever had, Angelus decided to press the matter and see how much more he could learn about William.

"Part of being in this family means cutting off all ties to your old life. Every vampire removes his ties to the world. This could be the chance for you to do that."

"You took care of all that a long time ago. I have no more ties to this world," William stated, matter of factly.

"That's where you're wrong. Everyone you ever knew or whoever knew you is a link to your old human life. There are quite a few people who need to be taken care of before you're completely free to start fresh."

"There is no fresh start for a vampire."

"Maybe not in the sense of having a clean slate, no, but the acts of a vampire in his first days are important. They're a message of who that vampire is. People you know are the perfect prey for what I've been trying to teach you, William. Take all the anger you ever felt towards them and use it to make them suffer. They'll regret every nasty word and every mocking insult they ever said to you and you'll be the reason for their regret. It's a beautiful thing, revenge, don't you remember?"

"No, I don't."

"I don't believe that."

William stopped walking and faced Angelus. His eyes were cold and hard as he stared at his grandsire.

"I don't care what they did to me. I never hated them for it. I wanted to be pathetic in their eyes because it kept the people I cared for safe, but they're gone now, thanks to you, and anything I was as a human is gone too. I choose to let them go. Tormenting others is a trait you admire, correct? Well then let them live. They'll cause a lot of suffering in their lifetime." William began walking again, back in the direction of home.

Angelus walked on with him, trying one last time to change William's mind.

"You'll go hungry tonight if you don't hunt. I don't want you too weak to handle your training tomorrow."

"As if you care how weak I get. I'll be fine for one night. I'm not hungry."

"Right, and I'm Saint Patrick. I do care if you're weak, you know. You're one of us now and that means you'd better be ready to fight if we have to, not to mention you know how much I dislike it when people pass out before I get to the fun parts of their punishment should you piss me off. Considering your behavior over the past few days it's highly likely."

William marched on, apparently retreating into silent and stoic mode. Angelus rolled his eyes again and continued on, pushing past the baffling vamp to lead the way back. It would take a very long time to figure this one out, but they were both vampires, and time was something they had plenty of.

* * *

><p>They were barely in the door when loud banging echoed around the room. They both whipped around to face the door in surprise. They sensed the presence of a human on the other side and Angelus scoffed.<p>

"Calm down, he's one of mine," he said, making his way over to the door.

"One of your what?" William asked, confused.

Angelus grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, allowing the lanky young man standing outside to tumble inside.

"He's one of my spies. I've learned it's handy to have a few humans on hand to help keep track of my enemies. Sensible, don't you think? Especially since most of them have the benefit of not bursting into flames in the daylight. Our friend here allows me to keep an eye on things so I don't have to worry about any surprises headed my way."

The lad straightened himself up and fidgeted with his immaculate suit, a sign of nervousness and one he used almost constantly in Angelus' presence.

"What is it? You seem more highly strung than usual," Angelus said, strolling past the frightened boy and heading for the liquor cabinet.

"They're after me. I've seen them out there looking for me. I don't know how they found out but they know and they're getting closer. You said they would all be dead, that I wouldn't have to worry. If I'm discovered it will ruin me," the boy said, panicking.

Angelus poured two glasses of Brandy with little haste and chuckled to himself. He picked up both glasses and turned to face his spy and William, who remained standing in a far corner. Angelus saw with interest that William was studying their guest with a frown on his face, as if the boy was somehow familiar to him. Angelus smiled.

"On the contrary. I think you'll find that that's the best case scenario should they find you. The more likely result will be your bloody death at the hands of the Hunters."

The boy released a barely audible squeak which Angelus pretended to ignore. He walked over, pausing briefly beside the frightened lad to sip his drink. When the shaken boy reached out a hand for the other glass, Angelus walked smoothly by him and walked over to William, offering the glass to him instead. William glanced at him briefly before accepting the glass and downing half the contents, turning his full attention back to their visitor. Angelus slipped one hand into his trouser pocket while the other brought the glass of Brandy to his mouth for another sip, half turning back to the startled boy who only just realized the presence of a second, unfamiliar vampire in the room. Or maybe not so unfamiliar.

"Pardon me, wherever are my manners? Allow me to introduce you boys. This here is the newest addition to my clan, William. He's young but he has potential to be a great killer someday or so Dru tells me. William, allow me to introduce my right hand man. Without him, it would have been very hard to accomplish everything I have during my stay here in London."

Angelus took another quick sip of his drink, relishing the sudden panic overtaking the human before him whose eyes were fixed on William in disbelief and horror. This should be very interesting. The boy's mouth opened in a hopeless attempt to prevent Angelus from speaking his name as he backed towards the door, seeking a hasty escape, but Angelus cut him off before he could utter a word.

"William, this is Adam Longley. He's a Watcher in training, but something tells me he won't be finishing his education. Come to think of it, haven't you fellas met before?" he asked, innocently.

He wasn't disappointed. Recognition flashed across William's face and he vamped instantly, snarling and smashing the glass in his hand as he did. Longley yelped in fear and rushed backwards to the door, but William closed the gap in two lightening quick strides and had the boy by the throat. Longley grabbed hold of the strong hands clamped about his throat in a feeble attempt to release the angry vampire's hold.

"Please," Longley choked out.

William flashed his fangs at the terrified Watcher and shook him viciously until the boy was gasping for air.

"You! It was you all along. You spread that rumor for him. You pretended to know nothing about it, acting like a victim when it was all planned. You led me down that alley for him, didn't you? Pretending you heard something, acting like a keen Watcher looking to impress his teachers when all along you were part of a plot to kill us!" William growled, threateningly, ignoring the boy's breathless pleas as his face turned red then purple as his air supply rapidly depleted.

Angelus was intrigued by the display. This was more violence than he'd seen come from the young vampire to date.

"You're going to kill him if you keep squeezing him like that. His eyes are about to pop," Angelus commented, calmly.

"What do you care if he dies?" William spat.

"What do you care if he doesn't?" Angelus threw back, sternly.

William growled again and dropped Longley, spinning to face Angelus, his eyes challenging.

"He's the reason for everything you've ever done to the Hunters. He told you about our meetings, he led dozens of men to their deaths and he told you where I lived. He made me into this," William finished, pointing at his ridged brow.

"No. Drusilla made you what you are. If I had my way you'd be dead like the rest of them. He's not to blame for that."

"You want to protect him?" William asked, in disbelief.

Angelus scoffed and finished his drink, tossing the glass to the side where it shattered against a wall.

"Of course not. I just want to know why you want to kill him so badly, yet you're perfectly willing to let those self obsessed mortals from your past we ran into earlier live."

"My reasons should be obvious, even to you."

"True, and they'd make sense if you were human, but you're not. You're a killer, William, a monster, so why should the acts of a traitor from your past honorable life bother you enough now to take revenge on him? After all, you'd just be doing those surviving Hunters a service, and that's not in my best interests."

"You said he'd be killed anyway. Are you going to help him?" William asked, and his tone made it clear he already knew the answer.

Angelus grinned. Longley had scrambled over to the door and was rising to his feet, grasping the handle with shaking hands, hoping for some escape. He looked over his shoulder, petrified, and met Angelus' cold stare and frightening smile.

"No, I'm not."

Longley had no time to react. William nodded then spun around and pulled the boy away from the door. He held the Watcher before him again, forcing him to look into his yellow eyes.

"Please. Don't kill me. He's right, you'd be helping them. You don't want to do that."

"You have no idea what I want," William snarled.

"But you're a vampire."

"A monster, a killer. I have to cut off ties to my past as he said." William glanced over at Angelus who looked on with interest. He nodded encouragingly at his pupil. William turned back to Longley. "I have unfinished business with you. You made the wrong choice."

"Please, no! I never meant—"

"Tough."

William threw Longley across the room where he slammed into a wall and collapsed on the ground, directly on top of the broken shards of glass. The boy groaned and shakily raised himself onto his hands and knees. He winced as glass dug into his palms and struggled to a sitting position, blood streaming down his arms. Angelus watched as William strode across the room to Longley again, grabbed him by the waistcoat and slammed him up against the wall again into a standing position. Things took an even more brutal turn when William began punching the boy. He was using his full strength and it took only a few hits to turn the Watcher's face black and blue. He most likely had a broken nose and jawbone and his lip was split; he had two black eyes and they were both swollen and puffy. William ceased punching Longley, instead swinging him around by one arm until he was bent over, the arm in William's grip bent at an awkward angle. Angelus was pleased. Finally the lad was showing some initiative and releasing some of the brutality that Dru had sworn existed in him.

"Well, well, well, progress at last," Angelus murmured.

William met his grandsire's eyes and snapped Longley's arm. The boy's shriek of pain was deafening. Drusilla and Darla walked in right at that moment and stopped in their tracks at the sight before them. Drusilla smiled widely and clapped her hands in glee.

"Ooh, my Dark Knight has arrived at last. My black beauty will tear the world in two."

She laughed and hurried over to William who watched her in awe. She stroked one well-defined cheek and he purred, his yellow demon eyes staring into hers.

"Feast and get your strength up, my William. There's lots of work to do now," she cooed, before backing away.

William watched her until she stopped a few paces away then grabbed the back of Longley's coat, pulled him closer, and sank his fangs into the boy's neck. Longley's scream was cut off abruptly. William tossed his head like a rabid dog as he tore mercilessly at the vulnerable throat. It was over quickly, like most of his kills, but it was more savage than before. William let the body fall to the floor, wiped his mouth and made his way to Drusilla. He took her in his arms and they began to twirl around the room with her giggling in pleasure. Darla stood next to Angelus watching them.

"Well, it appears the boy is learning after all," she commented.

Angelus turned to face her. "Maybe, but he has a long way to go. I have a few things in mind and then we'll see."

"See what?"

"Whether or not he's really ready to earn a name for himself." Angelus turned back to the dancing couple and spoke a bit louder making sure they heard him. "Maybe now they'll call him William the Bloody for another reason." He kicked at the bleeding corpse on the floor for extra emphasis. William's only response was a stony glare.


	12. Sinking

**Sinking**

_London 1880_

_November…_

Two figures waited in the darkened London streets. It was misty out and there was a chill in the air, but none of them noticed the cold temperature.

"William the Bloody is a little long-winded don't you think?" Darla asked lazily, fixing her glove and patting her hair while they waited for William and Dru.

"It doesn't exactly strike the right note of fear, no, but we can work on it. It will do, temporarily at least. Besides, you never know what may catch on. Take 'The Scourge of Europe' for instance, that's become one of our best known titles." Angelus ran a finger around inside the collar of his shirt, feeling confined in the restricting garb he had to wear in 'civilized society.'

Darla sighed dramatically and eyed the front door again. "For goodness sake, what's taking them so long?"

"I think Dru wanted to reward the lad thoroughly for the fine display last night. She was very impressed."

"Impressed? With what? She's done worse than that during her saner days," Darla countered.

"I know, but it's a sign that he's finally putting an end to this ridiculous battle with his true nature. He's been resisting for days and at long last he's showing a thirst for violence and bloodshed. It's about time too. I don't want rumors spreading that a member of my clan is no better than the leftovers we keep as servants."

Any further conversation was cut off as the door swung open and Dru glided down the steps, William following close behind. That was another thing that bothered Angelus. Everywhere they went together, William watched Drusilla as if totally captivated by her. His eyes never left her unless something particularly remarkable commanded his attention or annoyed him. He practically adored her, and Angelus couldn't understand it. Yes she was his sire, but William harbored such resentment for their kind and those who had irreparably damaged him as a human, including Longley, that it made no sense for him to look on Dru so fondly when she was the one who had turned him. It was just another piece of the confounding puzzle that was the turned Hunter.

"So, where are we going tonight?" Darla asked, in her typically bored fashion.

"Tonight I have something special planned. We're going to see how far you're willing to go, William. Tonight is going to prove to me whose side you're on," Angelus said, pleased when William turned away from Dru long enough to give him a suspicious and questioning look. "Come on, we better get a move on. I don't want to lose the trail."

"Trail?" Darla asked, this time a little more interested.

Angelus swung one arm around her waist and pulled her to his side as they began walking down the street.

"I had some of the boys look into something for me. It's not as upscale as you're used to, but it's important."

All three of his followers gave him curious glances but Angelus marched on purposefully. They'd catch on soon enough and then the fun could really begin. He grinned widely, looking up at the cloudy night sky, thinking how wonderful it was to be a vampire.

* * *

><p>He led them to an ordinary townhouse and came to a halt. Darla and Dru glanced at it with the faintest hint of curiosity. Angelus focused his attention on William. He patted himself on the back when he saw William's reaction. William recognized the house all right. He was staring at it in confusion and slight panic. His eyes met Angelus' and he swallowed hard.<p>

"Look familiar?" Angelus asked, knowingly.

"What are we doing here?" William asked, trying to hide what Angelus had already seen.

"I told you tonight's the night you prove whose side you're on, William. I was impressed with the way you disposed of Longley, it showed you are capable of art with the right encouragement. Trouble is, he was on our side." Angelus took a few threatening steps toward his pupil. "Now, you're going to take care of our enemies. No more waiting, no more excuses. Tonight you say goodbye to everything you were, understand?"

"I don't have to do this," William argued, stepping back.

"Yes, you do." Angelus took a menacing step forward, not letting William back away.

"You put an end to the Hunters, there's no reason to kill them."

"That's where we disagree. They could have stayed away. You spared their lives by sacrificing yourself but they came back. I know what you had planned, what you told them to do. I didn't go to all that trouble to have everything I've destroyed rebuilt in a few years because my spy has been eliminated and there were survivors. No loose ends, William. That's the way it has to be. Now do it, before I question my decision to keep you around."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Angelus demanded. "You don't care about them anymore. There's no need to be loyal to them. They'd kill you just as easily. There's nothing holding you back but your own damn stubbornness, and I've had enough of it!" Angelus shoved William backwards, hard.

William staggered back a few paces but didn't vamp out. Instead he remained defiant, shaking his head. Angelus was quickly losing his temper.

"Get an invitation and do it!"

"They won't. They know I would never have survived." William continued, shaking his head.

"Then you have nothing to lose, have you? Let's see how accurate your faith in their instincts is. I know people, William, and even when they know the truth they can never get past their pathetic emotions, even to save themselves. They believe what they want to believe. Now go!"

"No!"

Angelus raised a fist, ready to strike his insolent grandchilde, but a strong hand on his arm stopped him. Dru lowered his arm with a firm grip before releasing him then stepped to William, who had quieted at her approach and focused fully on her. She hushed him in a soothing voice and ran a hand through his curly hair, staring deep into his eyes and lulling him into a calm state.

"It's all right, my pet. It's not like before. There's no pain with loss. It releases you, frees you. You need this. Let go, William. I'll be there to catch you. We can have so much fun you and I. For eternity. Do it for Princess?"

William stilled, head tilted, considering her. Angelus looked on in wonder as William suddenly vamped, still watching Drusilla with an almost peaceful expression. After a moment's pause, William returned to his human mask and stalked away, pushing past Angelus and walking rigidly to the door of the house. Angelus stared at him, baffled. William was like a completely different vampire. There was no more argument. He simply walked up to the door and knocked.

"Come. They mustn't see yet," Drusilla said, catching Angelus' arm and pulling him to the side of the house.

Darla followed. They watched as the door opened. They heard a startled gasp, then silence. William stared at the person in the doorway without blinking.

"It's you. It's really you. God, Will, how? Where? What happened to you?" they heard a male voice ask.

William said nothing, just continued to stare ahead, not moving a muscle.

"Will?" the voice questioned, more hesitant this time.

"Is it just you?" William asked eventually, his voice a monotonous stream of words.

There was a pause. If Angelus breathed, he'd be holding his breath right now in anticipation. This was a key moment. William could be much smoother, more…realistic, as far as Angelus was concerned. What he'd told the boy was true. People always believed what they wanted to believe, despite what their instincts warned them about.

"No. It's both of us. For God's sake man, what happened?—quick, come inside. It's not safe out here."

And that was that. William walked over the threshold, no barrier in place. The door closed behind them and footsteps faded away into the depths of the darkened house. All Angelus and the others could do was sit outside and wait, listening for the faintest sounds within. Angelus rubbed the back of his neck, Darla picked at invisible bits on her gown, and Drusilla stared confidently upwards at the curtain covered windows of the house.

* * *

><p>Gray led the way to his office in a haze of confusion, relief, and a niggling sense of fear that he couldn't quite shake. He threw the door open, startling Hobbs, who jumped up out of his chair and spilled some of the contents of his glass.<p>

"For God's sake man, what the hell are you do—?" he lost his voice as the silent figure behind Gray stepped into the light.

Only the Scotch sloshing about in Hobbs' glass betrayed the image of a moment frozen in time. Three men stood in a room, as they had many times before, but unlike those other times, silence reigned over their meeting. Not one of them moved. The clock on the mantle behind Hobbs counted the passing seconds as they remained in this pose; William, standing just inside the doorway, Gray a little to his left, and Hobbs near the centre of the room in front of Gray's desk.

"Wi-w-wil—" was all Hobbs could manage.

His face was rather comical. His eyes looked as though they would fall out of their sockets at any second as he scanned his old friend up and down in disbelief. His mouth hung open as he gaped at William, then feebly tried to form words, failing miserably.

"Will," Gray said tentatively then paused, glancing at the floor then the ceiling for inspiration. Finally he faced William again and shrugged, his voice cracking with a half laugh, half sob when he spoke. "You're alive."

William walked further into the room, looking around him at its furnishings, stopping to pick up a figurine or an ashtray and turn it around, tilting his head as he regarded it from all angles then placed it down again to continue his stroll about the room. Hobbs and Gray watched him curiously, sharing a puzzled glance. Gray jumped a bit when he came face to face with a cold blue stare from across the room as William watched them. Gray cleared his throat and gestured to the half empty decanter on his desk.

"Would you like a drink, Will?"

Gray grabbed a glass from a nearby cabinet and walked over, filling it then picking up his own. He walked back to William and offered him the glass. William stared at it before slowly accepting. Gray stepped back and watched as William swirled the amber liquid around for a bit before raising the glass to his lips and downing the whole thing. Hobbs coughed nervously. Gray turned to face him and Hobbs raised an eyebrow. Gray took a sip of his Scotch, his other hand twitching slightly, and faced William again.

"So…are you going to tell us what happened to you? We heard you ran into Angelus then you just disappeared."

William remained silent, talking another walk around the room in the opposite direction, this time studying the paintings on the wall intently.

"Will?"

William glanced at them over his shoulder, placing the empty glass still in his hand down onto a table.

"We know who the traitor was," Hobbs blurted out, unable to stand the tension in the room any longer. "You won't believe this. It was that boy from the Council, the one who accompanied you the night you ran into Angelus. Little runt was behind the whole thing, had it set up to try and kill you. The Council has been all hush-hush of course, but we found out. He was working against us, trying to get rid of the Hunters for some reason."

"No one knows why. It's thought he may have bumped into Angelus and cut a deal with him in return for his life. Angelus would never pass up an opportunity like that," Gray interjected.

"He probably didn't see it as much of a loss to hand over the lives of so many Hunters either, the pompous sod." Hobbs cut in again, losing his temper. "He was a great actor though, have to give him that. Played the part of a cowardly little runt phenomenally. Stupid, arrogant, slimy little weasel! I get my hands on him—"

"He's dead," William interrupted.

Both men looked up, startled. They were the first words William had spoken since entering the house, and they momentarily stunned his small audience as they stared at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Gray asked slowly.

"Longley, he's dead," William repeated, coldly.

"Dead? But we followed him out of Council headquarters yesterday until we lost him in the crowded streets. He was perfectly fine then," Hobbs argued in disbelief.

"Last night he wasn't fine," William informed them, as he started toying with a paper weight, tossing the smooth globe from one hand to the other.

"What do you mean?" Gray asked steadily. "Will, what do you know? Did you see Longley?"

William nodded slowly, looking down at the paper weight in his hands, left, right, left, right, the round glass ball flew from one hand to the other.

"You saw him die?"

William nodded again. Left, right, left, right, faster now, the ball began to blur in front of the men's eyes.

Gray blinked then set his glass down on the desk. He folded his arms.

"What happened? Where were you? Did it—was it something to do with Angelus? Did Angelus kill him?"

Gray tried not to look at the blur flashing between William's hands, but it was hard not to. He took a deep breath and focused on his old friend's face, set in a stern mask, his icy blue eyes flicking from the paper weight in his hands to the two men before him. Slowly, William shook his head no. Gray swallowed hard.

"Will," he started, his tone much more serious, almost fearful, "did—did you have something to do with it?"

Blue eyes flicked up to meet Gray's again, and stayed there. There was no warmth in the look, no hint of friendliness or familiarity, just a cold, unblinking, clinical stare. For the first time, Gray took notice of the fact that the spectacles usually adorning Will's face were missing.

"Did you kill him?" Gray asked at last and all the air seemed to go out of the room.

The blur of motion became a paper weight again as William ceased tossing it around, instead clutching it in his left hand. He raised his head, looking from Gray to Hobbs and back again. He smirked.

"Yes."

Time stopped again. Gray stared at the stranger in front of him. Hobbs did likewise. Eventually the latter came to his senses and spoke.

"You killed him? But how did you know? How did you know it was him? None of us have had any contact with you since the day you left on that suicide mission—"

"Hobbs," Gray whispered in a warning tone, fixing his eyes on William.

"—and you turn up here out of the blue without even a scratch on you—"

"Hobbs," Gray said again, a little louder, reaching inside his jacket.

"—and then you tell us that the spy you made us stay alive to find is dead and you're the one that killed him! What in God's name happened to you? I never took you for a killer, Will, not when it came to humans. I know how badly you wanted him punished, as did we, but for you to kill the boy—"

"Hobbs!" Gray shouted, cutting off his friend's tirade. "That's not Will."

Hobbs frowned at Gray, slamming his own glass down on the table with a thud and spinning back to face them both.

"And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Hobbs demanded.

Gray's mouth became a tight line, his right hand still hidden inside his jacket.

"It means that Will is gone. I should never have invited him…it…in here."

William grinned sinisterly. Hobbs scowled, thoroughly confused, and opened his mouth to ask another question. Gray didn't waste another moment. He whipped out a cross and took two steps towards William, holding it out before him. William's reaction was instantaneous. He jerked backwards violently, the backs of his legs bumping into the small table behind him, making the items on top shake and rattle. The empty glass wobbled and fell on its side, rolling off the table to smash on the floor. Hobbs' mouth dropped open at the sight. William's distaste for the cross could mean only one thing.

"No." Hobbs shook his head.

Gray cringed and then backed up, holding his left hand behind him to Hobbs. "A stake, now!"

"Will," Hobbs said, still stunned.

"Now, Hobbs!" Gray shouted, momentarily taking his eyes off of William to look at Hobbs.

Hobbs jumped, glancing at Gray then made a beeline for his satchel, dropping to his knees and burying his hands inside. He pulled out a stake and threw it to Gray who caught it fluidly and spun back to William. He wasn't fast enough, though. Gray's momentary distraction meant that he'd lowered the cross a fraction and as he spun with stake in hand, William had recovered enough to launch his own attack. With lightening quick speed he threw the paper weight at Gray and the solid object made contact with the man's temple. It floored Gray who sprawled face down on the rug, the stake rolling away from his open hand. He groaned, blood streaming down his face and the round sphere that had done the damage rolled under the desk as if cowering from the oncoming danger.

"Gray!" Hobbs yelled, rising to his feet, a stake in his own meaty fist.

When he heard a growl from across the room his blood ran cold. Turning to face William, he stared into the yellow eyes of his enemy, an enemy that wore his friend's face, though now it was distorted with a vampire's ridges and fangs. Trembling for the first time in his life, Hobbs raised the stake and charged.

William launched himself at Hobbs, grabbing the arm that held the weapon and using his weight to halt Hobbs' momentum. A flash of amber eyes and razor sharp fangs, a quick snarl, and William brought Hobbs' hand down with full force, causing Hobbs to plunge the stake into his own gut. Hobbs bent over, as William held him up, one hand on his jacket the other still around his wrist. Hobbs released a sickening grunt, his eyes widening with surprise. William felt the warm blood trickling over his hand and could smell it in the air, his nostrils flaring.

Hobbs whimpered in pain. Pursing his lips, William twisted his wrist and shoved upwards, widening the wound and causing the blood to gush out. Hobbs gasped, but it quickly became a gurgle as blood flooded his mouth and he choked on the metallic fluid as his life drained away. Finally letting go, William stepped back allowing the body to drop to the floor, staining the rug beneath it red. Hobbs' fingers twitched and grew still, his eyes staring blankly at the skirting board.

A groan to the left caught the vampire's attention. Gray rolled over, clutching his bleeding temple, and struggled to a sitting position. He blinked several times, wincing from the pain in his head. When he eyed the mess on the floor, he snapped back to reality. Fully alert, he stared in horror at his friend, his comrade. His eyes found those of the vampire, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. His voice cracked.

"You—you did that. How could you—You thing! You evil demon!"

He scrambled for the fallen stake that lay next to him, his fingers a hairsbreadth away when he was hauled upwards and swung sideways. Will slammed him down on top of the desk, tipping over an ink pot which dug sharply into Gray's back. A cold hand closed over his throat, vampire strength keeping him still. He faced his foe without fear. The vampire regarded him. Gray decided he must look like a strange victim. He felt something—acceptance.

"Go ahead then, Will. Do it. It seems only fitting. I failed you."

William's other hand snaked around behind Gray's head, taking a firm hold of his hair. He growled low and triumphantly. Gray stared death in the face with watery eyes.

"Send me to them, Willie-boy."

No more hesitation. One swift move and the vampire snapped the delicate human neck in his grasp and Gray knew no more.

William released the man, his arms falling down to his sides. Gray's head faced left, the angle of his neck a sign that nothing was left but a body. The vampire continued to stare downwards at the still figure. That was where they found him moments later.

"You did it." Angelus' voice floated from the doorway. "I had my doubts, but then suddenly—no more barrier."

The three vampires who had been waiting outside entered the study, Darla and Drusilla fanning to either side of Angelus who was smirking away as he admired William's handiwork.

"Not bad. The one on the floor, killed with his own stake by a vampire, well, that was poetic, but then what else should I expect from a poet? The one on the desk though," Angelus came closer, stopping just behind William and looking over his shoulder, his head cocked slightly and his brow furrowed, "seems a bit too quick, too clean. You didn't even drink from him. What's the matter? Did the Watcher boy last night fill you up?" He smiled at his own wit.

William's vampire features melted away and his human face reappeared. He took in the room he had seen a hundred times with new eyes. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes as if emerging from a fog, then stilled when he saw the bodies strewn around the room. Startled, he made an unintelligible sound and staggered sideways, clutching at the desk, then letting go in horror when realized how close to Gray's body his hand was. Stumbling backwards, his back met the wall with a thump and he held onto it for dear life, shaking, his gaze transferring from one dead man to the other.

"What's the matter with you?" Angelus asked in irritation.

"No. I—I—Oh God no."

William ran a shaking hand through his hair and felt a sticky wetness on his scalp. Pulling his hand back, he gasped in shock at the blood covering it, Hobbs' blood. He could smell it, very nearly taste it. It coated the air, pervading his senses. He'd turned the room in which they'd once shared jokes into a room of death, and he wasn't even sure how or why.

"God? You're calling on the wrong being there aren't you?" Angelus scoffed.

They're dead," William said, quietly.

"Yes, we can see that. Dru, I think this one's a little off, not quite right in the head. Even _you_ don't act like—well _this_ afterwards," Angelus said, gesturing at William. "Maybe it's better we cut him loose."

Drusilla glided past her sire and put both hands on William's chest. He was still staring at the bodies. She raised a finger to his chin and tilted it so he was looking at her again. She gave him a proud smile.

"Well done, my boy. It's over now. You can start again like the big bad dog you are."

William calmed instantly. He bent his head to Dru's so that his forehead was resting against hers and placed both hands on her hips. Angelus folded his arms and scowled at the pair. Darla was standing next to the puddle of blood near Hobbs' body, fanning herself for no reason other than to display her boredom.

"All right, time to leave. You two can play star-crossed lovers later. Some of us have to feed still," Angelus huffed.

Dru glanced at him over her shoulder, gave him a grin and released herself from William, strolling over to the door. Darla walked over and the two linked arms then turned expectantly to their partners. Angelus walked over to William who was watching Dru and nudged him on the shoulder. William faced him with a scowl.

"You better start acting like a vampire soon or I'll cut my losses no matter how fond she is of you. Understand, Willie-boy?"

Suddenly Angelus found himself pressed against the wall, William in full vamp face, his arm pressing down on Angelus' chest. The elder vampire was too stunned to react. William snarled viciously then leaned in close, showing off his fangs and the fury in his yellow eyes.

"Don't _ever_ call me that. Don't use that name. Ever."

Angelus glared at William, showing him with one look how much he wanted to rip him apart for challenging him. William didn't back down, just waited for an acknowledgement. He increased the pressure on Angelus' chest a fraction and the other vampire winced.

"Fine," Angelus spat.

William nodded and released his grandsire, stepping back and giving him some space. Angelus ran his hands through his hair and fixed his cravat.

"Don't think I'll forget that," Angelus warned. "And you really should come up with something a little more threatening than William the Bloody. It's a mouthful, and we both know its origins aren't particularly horrifying, except for how pathetic they are," he threw over his shoulder as he pressed a hand to Darla and Dru's backs and walked outside.

William waited for a moment, staring at the doorway before following, not once looking back into the room.


	13. Spike

**Spike**

****_London 1880_

_November..._

"People are staring," Drusilla commented, idly, as yet another passerby glanced at the foursome and stopped abruptly, before bowing his head and scurrying away.

"That's because the boy didn't clean up. He's got blood smeared all over his shirtsleeve and in his hair. Is it any wonder people are gawking at us?" Angelus responded.

"Well this is hardly practical, is it? How are we supposed to move through the city with him in that state? It's going to cause problems." Darla huffed.

"I think red suits him," Drusilla said gleefully, petting William's chest and pushing the messy curls out of his face.

Darla just rolled her eyes and Angelus sighed loudly.

"Look, why don't you two go your own way and we'll go ours? Or better yet, let the boy go off by himself and find someone to eat. We'll have a better time without him around, the way he's acting. I really think this one's broken, Dru. Wouldn't you prefer someone else?" Angelus asked, almost hopefully.

"No."

"Well that was straightforward, wasn't it?" Angelus muttered, giving up.

William had been almost catatonic since they'd left the Hunter's house. He simply trailed after them, staring at the ground, not even noticing the stares of passersby. Suddenly a frown creased his face and his head jerked up. He looked at each of his companions, finally settling his gaze on Angelus.

"You're right," he said.

They all stared at him. Angelus leaned his head forward, tilting it to the side as if he hadn't heard William properly, his brow creased in confusion.

"What was that?"

"You're right. I'll go my own way. You go interrupt a party or visit the theatre. I have other places I can hunt—er, kill."

William awaited a response. They continued to stare at him, baffled.

"William?" Drusilla asked a little bewilderedly, which was unusual for her.

"He's right, Dru. I'll only get in the way. I'm not fit for high society slaughters just now. I'll stay on the streets—maybe try the East End or somewhere. You go on. I'll meet you back at the house."

"What are you up to?" Angelus asked, now fully suspicious.

"Nothing."

"You're never this agreeable, William. What's changed? You've been off since we found you with the dead Hunters."

"It's nothing. I just agree with you for once. You make sense, and I can't be seen at those high class establishments you want to go to and maintain your usual—finesse."

This was the most William had ever spoken so agreeably to any of them. Darla quirked an eyebrow, the only sign the sudden turnaround had drawn any reaction of surprise from her, before shrugging and staring at her gloved fingers. Angelus held eye contact with William for a long time, searching for any sign that William was plotting something. Eventually, he stood up straight again and relaxed.

"Okay then. Go. Be back at the house before sunrise. We'll meet you there. Come on, Dru."

"You want to leave me?" Drusilla asked William, ignoring Angelus and sounding almost hurt.

William softened, looking down at her with tenderness. He stroked her cheek with his un-bloodied hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

"No, love, of course not. It's better for you if we go our separate ways just now, that's all. I'll meet you back at the house after I've fed, I promise."

Dru seemed appeased by this and a happy, if slightly disturbing smile, spread across her lips.

"All right, William."

She twirled around and took the arm Angelus offered her, looking back at William once as they walked away down the street.

William watched them leave and when they turned a corner, released a long breath he hadn't needed. He looked down at the black stain on his hand and shirtsleeve, swallowing hard a few times. Upon closing his eyes, they were there again, blank eyes staring up at him, accusing and—disappointed. He cut off the whimper that rose in his throat and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were hard, cold, and predatory. Taking one last look at the bustling street in front of him, he spun around, his brown coat whirling behind him and stalked off into the night.

* * *

><p>He was full now, but he still didn't stop. He was just finishing up his third kill and had every intention of finding another, only this time he wouldn't feed, just kill. It had been difficult at first. He almost choked as he tried to drain his victim, the blood rushing into his mouth not as satisfying as it should be, spoiled by images of broken bodies, sightless eyes, quiet pleas and apologies. Growling, he pulled his fangs out of the mangled throat beneath them and shoved the body away from him, whereupon it fell with a loud splash into the water, floating face down. His yellow eyes observed the shadowy shape before he stalked off, more determined than ever to find another body to add to those he'd left littering the harbor. He had decided to go to the docks to hunt. The crass sailors and dock workers were more to his taste of victim right now anyway. He'd had enough of blue blood for a while.<p>

"Oi! What're you doin' down there, mate? You aren' s'posed to be here," a voice called down to him.

William looked up and saw a large man standing on some crates to his left. He watched as the man approached, dropping down the stacked up crates as if they were stairs. His heavy boots slammed against the wooden boards with a heavy thud that echoed into the darkness and boomed like thunder in the vampire's ears.

"What's the matter? You deaf or dumb or both? Clear off, now."

The man scowled at William, who hadn't moved a muscle, just continued to stare at him. He took in William's appearance and took a step back upon noticing the blood. It was all over him. His formerly white shirt was covered with stains, and despite the darkness, at such a close distance even human eyes could spot the shimmering wetness trailing down his chin and neck from his mouth. The man took two steps back and raised his hands defensively.

"What the bloody 'ell? Look, mate—" The man's voice came to an abrupt halt when his eyes landed on William's face again, this time taking in the bumps and ridges, and the glowing eyes.

"What's the matter, mate?" William asked, mimicking the worker's strong accent. "Not gonna bite." He grinned, flashing his fangs. "Or maybe I will."

The man backed up quickly, but William advanced, still grinning.

"Stay away! Stay back! I'm warning you!"

"Warning me, are you?" William asked, chuckling. He was enjoying this. He found he rather liked talking in the thick, uncultured accent. "And what, pray tell, are you gonna do to me, eh?"

The man was trembling now. He turned with the intention of running but never had the chance. William tackled him to the ground, straddling the man's back and grabbing his head. One startled cry was all the man managed before the vampire had yanked his head back, snapping his neck. William let the man's head hit the wooden boards of the dock with a loud thud like the noise his boots had made earlier. Slowly, he stood up, sniffed and wiped a sleeve across his mouth. He cocked his head, examining the victim.

It was definitely easier that time. Quick, clean, no flashes, no sickness, it felt good. It was getting easier each time he killed. He wanted to do it again. He was becoming bored with the docks. It was time to set his sights on pastures new. Enough bodies lay in his wake here for now. William found a barrel full of water nearby and, cupping his hands, splashed some of the liquid onto his face to remove as much of the blood as he could. Glancing down at his ruined shirt he thought for a minute before heading back to his latest victim and quickly relieving him of his much cleaner one. Stripping the soaked and filthy garment off, William donned the new one which was a bit too big but would suffice for now, and shrugged his coat back on. Smoothing his mess of curls back with one hand, he took a last look at the body before leaving, heading back into the city.

* * *

><p>William hummed away to himself in a more chipper mood as he strolled down the streets. He couldn't describe the change in him exactly, all he knew was that the more he killed the better he felt, or rather <em>didn't<em> feel—at all. That's what Angelus had been stressing to him for so long. Vampires didn't feel, and William agreed—except ever since he'd crawled out of his own grave that night and his memories had come back to him, he'd been struggling with what suspiciously resembled emotions.

Why, he wasn't sure, but every time he'd thought about what he was, he'd had an urge to vomit or look for a stake. Some shred of a survival instinct had prevented him from dusting himself, and instead he'd struggled with his memories, trying to come to terms with what he was. There were only a few occasions when he hadn't been repulsed by feeding or killing, and mostly it had been because he couldn't remember them. It was as if he drifted away to some dark corner where everything was blissfully quiet only to suddenly be back in his own body, death and scenes of carnage before him. The disappearance of the thirst had been the condemning proof that he had been the cause.

Now though, he was able to kill without guilt or remorse and without losing sense of time. This was the way it should be. It was coming naturally to him. He no longer cared about his victims. They were faceless screams in the night moments before the deathly silence descended—the silence created by him. He was a monster that prowled through the darkness, putting an end to anyone foolish enough to cross his path.

William felt the heavy piece of metal weighing down his left coat pocket, and stroked the cold, hard surface, humming more loudly. Coincidence or fate, it didn't matter, William had seen the thing and known what he had to do. The thought had made him smile. Drusilla was always talking about her "Black Prince" and how he was a new creature now. Everything was going to change for him, and she was right. He finally felt free—ready to become her Dark Knight and do all those nasty little deeds she'd whispered to him at night as they traveled the globe.

He emerged from the quiet alleyways onto one of the main streets and weaved his way through the throngs of people still humming merrily to himself. He meandered through the busy streets until he reached his destination. Finally he stopped walking, his humming abruptly cut off, and William gazed up at the townhouse, lit up like a beacon as music and laughter floated down to the cold street below. He viewed it almost quizzically, his head tilting slightly to the right. It was so full of life. It made him grin. His hand wrapped around the object in his pocket and he strode forward heading straight for the door.

Entering the premises wasn't much of a hassle. No one paid any attention to the door being answered with all the guests milling about, and thus no one noticed when William walked past them with his arm around the doorman, who had found himself quite suddenly retired. Shoving him into a closet out of sight, William made his way into the heart of the party, his eyes scanning the crowd. There was no possible way to avoid an all out panic tonight with what he was about to attempt, but he'd make damn sure he got what he came for. He spied three of his targets, but the fourth was missing. Oh well, Cecily would live to break more hearts it seemed. Satisfied that he could at least fulfill Ralph's wishes, he pushed his way past the offended and scandalized guests in his way and approached the small group giving Ralph their full attention.

"So I said to Miss Mabel, I said, perhaps on this occasion looking a gift horse in the mouth _would_ have been the wiser course of appraisal," Ralph said, grinning.

His audience laughed in delight, one woman giggling almost uncontrollably as she held one gloved hand to her chest.

"Well, she said, the next time I have a portrait of a new horse done, I shan't be including the carpet in the scene," Ralph continued, triggering another bout of laughter as he took a large sip of champagne.

Loud clapping rose above the noise of the merry group and their laughter died away as they turned to face the source. William continued his slow clap as every pair of eyes in the room settled on him. Eventually he stopped, smiling as he watched Ralph's eyes narrow.

"Bravo. You're as captivating as ever I see. Maybe you should consider performing on stage professionally. You do love the attention, after all."

"William," Ralph said, shrugging off his surprise and annoyance, "I didn't think we'd be seeing you at one of our functions again. Didn't exactly dress for the occasion either, did you? Found an audience for your poetry among the street urchins and miscreants, have you?" he asked, with a smirk.

William smiled back coldly and had the pleasure of watching the man shiver despite his bold exterior. There was something to be said for being inhuman. It made the most innocent of gestures seem chilling as long as you retained emptiness in your eyes.

"I'd have thought you'd want me to regale you with one of my fine works. You seemed so eager to read them out before," William said, turning to survey their audience, sensing Ralph tense up behind him. He tightened his hold on the piece of metal in his pocket. "Oh yes, I almost forgot."

William whirled around so fast no one had time to react. He withdrew the railroad spike from his pocket and used his full force in swinging it in a downward arc to Ralph's head. There was a sickening crunch as it broke through the skull and embedded itself in the man's brain. William still had a firm grip on the shaft of the weapon sticking out of the top of Ralph's head. The man had a dazed expression, as if he'd just been clubbed rather hard. He opened his mouth and blood trickled down his chin. The body began to sink to the ground, and using his supernatural strength with one hand on Ralph's shoulder, William performed the impossible task of removing the spike again, straining his muscles from the force. A chunk of Ralph's skull popped out with the spike as the body dropped like a stone to the floor. William studied the bloodied, gore covered weapon and gave one long low whistle at its effectiveness.

A woman screamed and a glass shattered. The noise seemed to jerk the stunned observers out of their trance and chaos ensued. William turned and watched, amused, as people fled in horror. They were in such a hurry to get away that they were knocking each other over, trampling those who fell before them, ignoring their screams and shouts of pain. The mass of people surged to the doorways and their sheer numbers blocked the exits, so they had difficulty shoving through to escape. William grabbed a nearby partygoer in mid flight and jabbed the spike through the man's chest, releasing it with a sickening squelch, blinking as blood sprayed outwards across his face. The screams intensified as people glanced behind them and caught the show.

"Leaving so soon? I thought this was supposed to be a party?" William shouted. "Come on then, let's have some fun!"

William rushed forwards stabbing more people. The killing was invigorating. He laughed aloud at the sensations washing over him. He felt free for the first time in a long time. Their shouts and cries and screams fuelled his mirth and he smiled a toothy grin as he cut them down. Eventually, seeing no alternative as they were near the back of the crushing crowd trying desperately to flee the house of death, a group of men turned and attempted to fight William.

"Ohoho, goin' on the offensive now are we boys?" William asked, slipping back into the uncultured slang of the dock worker. "All right lads, let's have us a real fight then."

William beckoned them forward with a smirk, goading them into attacking. He could see the way they trembled with fear and it thrilled him. They each grabbed the nearest thing to a weapon they could find; vases, a candelabra, one man even grabbed a coat rack.

"Stay back you monster! Whatever's wrong with you just stay away! You'll hang for what you've done!" the man with the coat rack cried, swinging his makeshift weapon wildly.

William leaned back, easily dodging the swing and chuckled. "Monster is it? You just hit the nail on the head there mate." Knowing they wouldn't put up much of a fight anyway, William decided to cut the standoff short, switching into his demon guise. Predictably, they screamed.

Two of them dropped their weapons and the remainder stared in horror at the yellow eyed creature that resembled a disfigured man standing before them. A few women nearby fainted, thus sealing their doom. Raising his head to the ceiling, William released a demonic roar and continued the bloodshed, sometimes using the spike, sometimes just his bare hands or his fangs. He didn't feed from them. His thirst had been satisfied long ago. This was a different hunger—all consuming and shockingly brutal.

Outside, the citizens walking the streets of London had come to a standstill, frozen by a morbid fascination with the sight of the fleeing crowd, and the sharp wailing that signified intense pain and death ripping apart the night.

* * *

><p>Whistling merrily to himself, William strolled in the door and barely had time to turn around before a crushing pressure landed on his throat and his back was pressed against the solid wooden surface.<p>

"What. The. HELL! Were you thinking?" The harsh male voice spat at him.

William sucked in his cheeks and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Nice to see you too, granddad," he wheezed out.

Angelus narrowed his eyes and slammed William back against the door again. "Do you have the slightest idea what you've done?" he asked, furiously.

"Why don't you enlighten me?" William responded, bitterly.

"Insolent little shite." Angelus stormed away abruptly, freeing William who adjusted his collar and rubbed his bruised throat. "Me and mine have ripped the world apart for years. We've blazed a path through history until our names have become feared among all those who stand for good in this piss soaked, rat infested world, but _never_ have we done anything so _incredibly stupid_ as what you've accomplished in one night," Angelus began, pacing about the room as he worked up to what was sure to be another blistering tirade.

"That mean I'll earn my own spot in the history books then?" William asked, his voice slurring a bit.

Angelus spun round quickly, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked at William, this time taking a closer look at his grandchilde. "What?"

"You know, for accomplishing something you've never done—and all in one night. I'd say that's worth a mention in the books, eh?" William elaborated, stumbling over to the drinks cabinet and pulling the door open so hard it was ripped from his hinges. The momentum upset his balance, making him teeter on his heels for a second before he righted himself, shrugged, and tossed the door to the floor behind him, making the glass panels within the frame shatter.

"What's going on?" Darla asked, emerging from her bedroom. She took in the sight of William examining a bottle from the cabinet and pulling the stopper out with his teeth, spitting it out and taking a large swig of the contents. "Oh, the boy's back." She sighed.

"You're drunk," Angelus stated.

"And on the way to being blindingly pissed, thank you very much," William countered, tipping the bottle in Angelus' direction before tossing back another mouthful of alcohol.

"What's wrong with him?" Darla enquired.

"I'm wondering that myself," Angelus retorted, completely thrown. This was a whole new William, and he liked him even less.

"William?" Dru's soft voice called, as she entered the room.

William turned to her, grinning broadly. "Dru, luv! How was your night, ducks?" he asked, staggering over and pulling her against him.

"You smell like death," she cocked her head, "and a brewery." She studied him for a minute before her eyes lit up and she giggled. "It's divine."

William leered at her. Curling his tongue up to touch his top teeth, he leaned in closer. "Glad you like it, pet. I'm growin' rather fond of it myself."

"Who _are_ you?" Angelus asked, shaking his head at the sickening display.

William looked up at him and smirked. "You mean what have I done with the broody poofter that couldn't bear to have his shirtsleeves sullied?"

Angelus blinked and shifted agitatedly. "Well, since you put it that way—"

"Don't rightly know, mate. All I can tell you is, he's gone. Must be that taste for pain you were tellin' me about—the art of killing and all that bollocks." William waved a hand dismissively. "Started to kick in is all."

"It couldn't have set in when we were around to ensure you didn't destroy any chance we had to leave this city without unpleasant complications?"

"Would have stifled my creativity," William answered, sarcastically. He turned so he was facing Angelus fully, one arm thrown around Dru's shoulder, still holding the bottle precariously by the neck with the other. "What's got your breeches in a knot? Path through history, violence and bloodshed—it's all you've been banging on about for weeks and now you want to lecture me for doing just that?"

"You've put us at risk!"

"I've done what?" William asked, laughingly.

"You've exposed us. You think we have an option of staying in the city after what you've done? We can't even stay in the country let alone this house."

"Movin' on anyway, weren' we," William slurred, dismissing Angelus with a wave of his hand and downing more alcohol.

Angelus was losing his temper, judging from the scowl on his face and his clenched fists. William was in too good a mood to care.

"Look here you little upstart—" Angelus spat, pointing a finger at William.

He was interrupted by a shout from the street outside. The vampires exchanged glances and Angelus and Darla headed to the windows. Carefully they eased the heavy drapes aside to look down onto the street. An orange glow lit up their faces, coming from outside, which was odd in itself. Sunrise was less than an hour away, but it shouldn't be that bright outside yet.

"What's all the ruckus then?" William asked, as he watched Angelus' expression darken further at whatever sight lay outside.

Letting the curtain fall back into place, Angelus faced William, his look murderous.

"Now you've done it. Not only did you go on a rampage that has the entire city in an uproar, but you led them right to us! It's a mob!"

"A what?" William asked, stepping forward, eager to take a look outside himself. Angelus held him back lest he give them away in his drunken state.

"A mob, William, pitchforks and torches, the whole lot. We have to get out of here before we find ourselves trapped."

"And where do you suggest we go?" Darla asked, crossly, folding her arms.

"Anywhere we can hide for now," Angelus answered, impatiently.

He released William and grabbed his discarded coat from the back of a nearby chair, shrugging it on hurriedly. "Time to move, grab what you need and let's go."

William raised his eyebrows at Darla's scowl and finished the contents of his bottle as she pushed by him. Tossing it away carelessly, he ignored the smash as it shattered against a wall and followed his sires, pausing to grab another bottle from the cabinet on his way out. At Dru's knowing look, he hid the item inside his coat pocket and tossed an arm around her, giving Angelus an innocent smile when the older vampire turned to glare at him.

"Lead the way then," William said, gesturing forwards, watching Angelus' scowl deepen. "If those eyes of yours narrow any further, you could pass for Asian, mate," he added.

Angelus yanked the door open so hard it banged against the wall, leaving a crack in the plaster. The furious vampire stalked into the hall muttering a string of curses and Irish profanities as he led his family out of the building via a well hidden back door and hopefully, away from the enraged mob William had led to their lair.


	14. Direction

**Direction**

Getting out of London hadn't been easy. That, Angelus thought, was an understatement. They had made it away from the immediate vicinity of the mob and were in the process of vanishing quietly into the night when William the Bloody _Fool_ had to go and get himself spotted by some eager youth. The lad was caught up in the excitement of the whole affair of a manhunt, or rather vamphunt, and wasted no time in shouting his discovery quite literally from the rooftops.

What followed this announcement was the thunder of footsteps on cobblestones, and a cacophony of voices yelling various encouragements to one another about what to do to the "hideous beasts" and "vile monsters" once they got their hands on them. Deciding it would take up precious fleeing time, Angelus didn't wring the boy's neck, instead he'd glowered at William again before breaking into a run and leading his family away from the mob.

Escaping had been more difficult than predicted, as even with vampire agility, it was impossible to keep a decent distance between their pursuers and themselves without running into the path of civilians and police patrolling the city streets ahead of them. Angelus had also been trying to keep to the shadows as much as possible, not wanting to risk combusting into flames. The sun was steadily rising and the vampires had grown increasingly agitated as their senses screamed at them to find cover soon or be burned to ash.

Since he had no other choice, Angelus forced his way into a vacant shop. Quickly locating the cellar, the group slipped inside taking shelter for the day. They remained silent, not even whispering to one another, as they listened to the search going on above ground. Hours later, they heard footsteps moving about upstairs as the owners of the shop arrived. Angelus remained alert, fully prepared to kill anyone who dared to come downstairs, but thankfully the door to their haven remained firmly shut the entire day.

By sunset Angelus was feeling completely exhausted and irritable and he contemplated tearing William's head off for causing him all this trouble in the first place. When they emerged from their hiding place, they quickly eliminated the shocked man cleaning upstairs and hurried back onto the dark London streets. Though the search for them was ongoing, the large mob that had followed them the night before had broken up into considerably smaller groups that patrolled the city. Should the vampires encounter one of these smaller groups, they'd be infinitely more manageable, yet they needed to avoid contact if possible. If more dead bodies were discovered they'd soon have yet another herd of bloodthirsty vengeance seekers on their trail, and Angelus had endeavored to retain a low profile.

After a long night of weaving and dodging, they made it out of London, away from their pursuers, and away from their lavish style of living. Deciding to hold onto his temper until he was positive they were safe, Angelus maintained his silence, not uttering a word to the others, not even Darla. She'd seemed to sense the hurricane brewing beneath his calm and silent exterior and wisely kept her mouth shut for once, conversing with Drusilla and reprimanding William to keep herself amused as they'd journeyed further North.

Miraculously, they completed their journey without any of them meeting a dusty end, and arrived at the safest destination Angelus could think of for the moment, a small town in Yorkshire called Barnsley. Of course, that was before Angelus realized what a liability his new grandchilde actually was. They made themselves at home and less than two nights later had another mob chasing them, which was why they were currently hiding out underground like rats in an old mine-shaft.

"I seem to forget why I haven't killed you yet, William. I made it this far without cleaning up after Dru's mistake but now I'm having sincere difficulty figuring out why. I gave you a reprieve after your actions in London. Not this time," Angelus said, his hand pinning William to the rocky wall of the mine shaft by the young vamp's throat.

"Sck—ike," William choked out.

"What's that?"

Angelus let go of William suddenly and the younger vampire panted for breath. The action pissed Angelus off even more. Vampires didn't need to breathe. The runt never seemed to stop.

"It's Spike now," William said, pointedly, adding a rebellious smirk. "You'd do well to remember it, mate," he added cockily, shoving off the wall and stalking off to a far corner while Darla and Dru watched the exchange.

"I'm not your mate," Angelus ground out, angrily, "and when'd you start talking like that?"

"Are we really going to argue dialect here, boyo?" William retorted, scathingly.

Angelus took a deep breath to reign in his temper. His own Irish accent grew thicker when he was enraged, like now for instance. Turning away in disgust, he began pacing within the shadow of the wall.

"You've got me and my women hiding in the luxury of a mine-shaft, all because '_William_ the Bloody' likes the attention!"

Turning back around, Angelus' eyes popped when he saw William, _Spike_, ignoring him and concentrating instead on drinking from a bottle that had appeared out of nowhere. He'd been conjuring alcohol mysteriously the whole trip, and it both baffled and irritated Angelus beyond belief.

"We don't need this. It's not how we operate." Angelus decided explaining would be the better option.

"Not how we operate? We're _vampires_. It's what we do. I'm out there making a name for myself, catching up to your fine reputation," William paused to point at Angelus, "while you what? Pick off a few faceless members of the populace? What happened to the Angelus I read about? All those detailed accounts of your atrocities are just myths then? Is what you did in London before Dru turned me such a distant memory? Face it, granddad, you were just like me once. I guess you've just gone soft."

"I've always had finesse!" Angelus argued, fiercely, approaching William. "Something you clearly can't comprehend."

"Wrong," William said, bitterly, meeting Angelus face to face. "I _comprehend_ just fine. I came from that background, remember? It's bollocks. Frilly cuffs and collars and nothing more."

"So you decided the scum your society wipes off their boots is more appealing? You really did lose something when you got turned. The voice, the clothes," Angelus flicked at William's shabby coat, torn and covered in dirt and blood stains, "the name. This is how you want to be known?"

William batted Angelus' hands away. "Said yourself 'William the Bloody' was a mouthful. Spike works much better don't you think? So named for torturing my victims with railroad spikes," William continued, pretending to place each word in the air like a headline with one hand.

"Poetic," Angelus cut in, sarcastically.

"Cut off all ties to my past, remember? I've done that. I'm not him anymore. I'm nothing like him. There's no one left he knew and there's _nothing_ of him left. The only thing William and Spike have in common is how much you hate us." William took another drink and shoved Angelus away. "Which is fine by me."

Angelus snatched the bottle out of William's hands before he could take another gulp and smashed it on the rocky ground at their feet. William stared down at the mess, looked up and sighed loudly.

"You know what I'd really enjoy? Getting caught. That's your problem. When was the last time you had a real fight, eh? Unleashed the demon? Backs against the wall with no way out, only your fists and fangs for survival? That's glory. That's something for the history books."

"Sounds more like a bar fight to me," Angelus sneered.

"Well you'd know all about that wouldn't you, _Liam_. Bloody poofter."

That was the last straw. Angelus snapped. Grabbing a discarded shovel that had been leaning against a wall, he cracked the wooden handle across his knee, breaking it. Grabbing William with one hand, gripping the handle in the other, he shoved William backwards until he was bent over a mining cart. Raising the makeshift stake in both hands, Angelus brought it down to rest against William's heart, pressing down heavily, but not hard enough to dust him.

"I think our boys are going to fight," Darla sang.

Drusilla nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, but Daddy mustn't break the weapon or the world will miss the main event."

Darla glanced at Drusilla sideways and rolled her eyes.

"S'all right, ducks. Daddy hasn't got the stones," William said, grinning, his eyes sparkling as they met Angelus', daring him to do it.

Angelus was just about to drive the piece of wood into the bastard's heart when a thought struck him. The realization hit him so hard it almost blindsided him.

"You still want to die. You've wanted it from the very start and you think you're finally going to get your wish. You want me to kill you."

"No," William shook his head, his grin remaining firmly in place. "Not anymore. I have no reason to want to die anymore. I'm a whole new animal. I'm just going to keep on killing and fighting until somethin' stops me, and the only thing that's gonna stop me is someone dustin' me. I don't care what happens to me now. It's all on you. It's about what _you_ want."

"No," Angelus argued, "that's not it. This whole thing's a ploy, a charade to catch me off guard. You know something. It's about your future isn't it? Drusilla keeps prattling on about the things you're going to do, as if you're something special. As if you're destined for something, and you know exactly what." Angelus dropped the stake, backing away from William.

William rose up onto his elbows, his eyebrows quirked as he watched Angelus back away, still looking as if he found the whole situation funny.

"You've lost it, mate. Claustrophobia must be settin' in. The mine is rattlin' your brain."

Angelus began pacing again, running a hand through his dark mane of hair, eyeing William suspiciously as he stalked back and forth.

"No, no, no. Maybe you don't know exactly what it is, but you have a notion, an inkling of what she means." Angelus pointed at Dru when he said "she."

William glanced at Dru and then looked back at Angelus.

"Nice sentiment, but no one knows what Dru means. No offence, luv."

"Hmm?" Drusilla asked, as though she wasn't even following the conversation.

Angelus snapped his fingers, thinking he'd figured out William's scheme at last.

"It's Hunters!"

"What?" William asked again, rising up from the cart and brushing off his coat.

"I went to a lot of trouble eliminating the Hunters in London. In a single night, you've undone all that hard work."

"And how exactly did I manage that then?" William asked, his brow furrowed as though honestly baffled by Angleus' discovery.

Angelus wasn't falling for it. He _knew_ William had it planned. It was the only explanation for his insane behavior in London and Yorkshire. Why else would he expose their existence so freely?

"You showed people what you are! You had a mob after us. How do you think half of those Hunters became Demon Hunters in the first place? I know you know. You couldn't be one of them without knowing. They witness something exactly like what you did and they take it upon themselves to root out _evil_ and destroy it. You've made the task of re-establishing the Hunters in London much easier for them."

"It's still going to take years for them to recover to full strength, and it's not like we were staying there anyway, right?" William argued.

"You alerted them to our presence! You want us to be found and destroyed. It's like a last effort to redeem yourself for failing to kill me."

William scoffed and stared at Angelus, who glared back, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Bloody hell, I killed the last sodding Hunters left in the city! They were my mentors and I murdered them! How much proof do you need? I'm not a Hunter anymore. You honestly think I planned all this, hmm? Your downfall? Think I paraded around waiting to be caught in _hopes_ that Dru would just _happen_ to turn me?" William spread his arms wide. "What were the chances of that? All so I could destroy you from inside your precious family circle?"

When he put it like that, Angelus had to admit it didn't seem nearly as plausible as he'd first thought, but he still wasn't willing to trust the runt. The little pest had a long way to go before he could prove himself to Angelus. Especially after his recent antics.

"Besides, what does any of that have to do with my having a death wish for some 'master plan?' If I'm still working on their side," William rolled his eyes, "those plans I'm destined for would be ones I'd want carried out, wouldn' they? Wouldn' make much sense for me to be suicidal."

"Not necessarily. You're a killer. It's part of your nature. You can't avoid it. You _will_ spill more blood. If you die, all those you're destined to kill would survive, so you'd want someone to stop you. If a Hunter can't kill you, I can."

"You really have gone off your rocker."

Angelus refused to give up the notion now that it had occurred to him. There was a reason for this behavior. There had to be. No vampire could be this infuriatingly childish. Then again, Angelus thought, as he watched William swagger over to Darla and Dru, smirking back at him, maybe they could. If the Hunter in him was truly gone, perhaps all that _was_ left was a blithering idiot. The runt had trained to be a Watcher once, after all.

"I don't know what you're up to, William, but whatever plans fate has for you, you're not getting out of them that easily. I told you before I wasn't going to end your misery, and I meant it. Fair play for effort. You've tested my patience to the last," Angelus threatened, one finger pointed menacingly at William.

"For the last bleedin' time I'm not _up to_ anything and the _name_ is _Spike_. Now are we gonna sit here and debate my motives or are we gonna go have some more fun?" William asked, smoothing his hair back with one hand.

"Fun? Did you miss the part where there's an angry crowd out there looking for us?" Darla snapped, irritably.

"No, luv. I didn't. Did you miss the part where I said a good fight's the sort of fun I had in mind?" William retorted.

"I am not your luv." Darla scowled, folded her arms and gave William one of her looks that could kill.

"Bloody good thing too. What about you, Princess? You fancy spreading some fear?" William asked Drusilla, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her hair.

"I forbid you to put my childe in danger," Angelus interrupted, as Dru leant into William and curled her fingers around the arms encircling her.

"Forbid. Yeah, good luck with that." William chuckled.

Angelus decided that even though he couldn't kill William, it didn't mean he couldn't throttle him soundly until he started acting like the no good underling he was. Every pack has an Alpha and an Omega. William was an Omega who seemed to think he was an Alpha. It was time to clear up his confusion.

Angelus removed his jacket and draped it across a crate on the floor next to him. He then loosened his cravat and removed it, letting it drop on top of his jacket. The other three vampires suddenly noticed what he was doing. Darla smiled at him and he nodded slightly at her.

"Come on, Drusilla, let's find ourselves a good seat," Darla said, holding out her arm to Dru.

Linking Darla's arm with her own, Dru kissed her fingers and pressed them to William's lips before gliding off to a far corner with Darla. William watched her go and turned back to Angelus, who was rolling up his shirtsleeves. Pursing his lips, William nodded and slid his own coat off, letting it drop to the ground. He didn't bother rolling up his own sleeves. Glancing at his scruffy attire, Angelus wasn't surprised. The runt took no pride in his appearance anymore. On second thought, he did. William took pride in looking like a street urchin.

"So we're really gonna hash this out then?" William asked, as he waited for Angelus to finish preparing for their fight.

"You wanted a good fight. You're getting your wish. A fight with me will be far more thrilling than a group of angry men with sticks and pitchforks."

"I don't doubt it. Think you can take me, granddad?" William jeered.

Angelus just smirked. He'd learn soon enough. No fledgling could last in a fight with a true vampire from a powerful bloodline. Angelus took two steps forward and stopped. Spreading his hands either side of him, he waited, gesturing for William to make the first move.

William cocked his head to the side. He hesitated briefly before inhaling deeply and swaggering forward. Angelus smiled and waited. When they were no more than five feet apart William stopped and their gazes locked. Angelus maintained eye contact. He detected uncertainty in his opponent as he knew he would. No matter how cocky the youngster was, he knew better than to question Angelus' strength. The whelp knew he was in for a harsh lesson, and Angelus would revel in teaching him.

The punch, when it came, was lightening quick; a left hook that was a hairsbreadth away from connecting with Angelus' cheek. The boy had speed, he'd give him that. Angelus turned his head at the last instant and felt the whoosh of air against his cold skin. Unable to contain himself any longer, Angelus unleashed his wrath. His right hand became a solid fist that delivered a blow like a hammer strike to William's left kidney. The young vamp grunted and bent forward, clutching his injured side. Angelus used the opportunity to bring his left knee up into William's face. William's head flew back and he fell backwards, landing on the ground hard, his nose bleeding. Angelus slowly circled him, grinning, enjoying himself. He was just getting started.

William groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He rolled over onto his side and pushed himself off the ground and onto his knees. Sitting back on his heels, he looked up at Angelus and wiped the blood from his face, glancing at the red smear on his hand before licking it off. He chuckled softly as he watched Angelus circle him.

"Now you're gettin' it."

Angelus raised one eyebrow questioningly and continued his slow circling. William laughed and stood up. Stretching, William rolled his shoulders and began a slow circling movement of his own, so the two vampires appeared to be sizing each other up as they prowled around each other in the confined space of the mine shaft. Simultaneously they stopped moving, squaring off again. This time, Angelus moved first.

He kicked William in the stomach, smirking when he felt his foot make contact, but William had quickly bent over when he'd seen the kick coming, and avoided most of the force. His two hands grabbed Angelus' ankle and held on tightly. Giving him a cocky grin, William yanked Angelus' foot upwards, forcing the older vamp to jerk forward and off balance. In one swift movement, William swept Angelus' other foot out from under him, and the bigger vampire landed onto his back with a thud. Angelus couldn't help wincing when his body slammed into the solid rock beneath him. Angrily, he yanked his foot out of William's grip and quickly shoved it back at the vamp's chest, sending him stumbling backwards a few paces.

Angelus was livid. How dare that runt belittle him like that! Angelus would _not_ be forced on his back in front of his women by such an idiotic little upstart! Any chance that he would go easy on William had vanished, not that it had existed in the first place, but Angelus was ready to push him to his limit after that display.

Quickly springing to his feet, despite his bulk, Angelus flew at William, throwing merciless punches left and right. William blocked most of them, and this enraged Angelus even further. He hadn't considered that when William was human, he'd trained to fight demon's much stronger than himself, so he wasn't the pushover that the majority of fledglings tended to be. However, the few blows that did connect were punishing, and William was soon covered in bruises and blood. The sight only marginally satisfied Angelus.

William remained on the defensive while Angelus pushed forward, striking blow after blow, now varying his moves from simple left right punches to include kicks as well. Soon, Angelus had backed William against a wall. The whelp grabbed hold of Angelus by the shoulders, and before Angelus had a chance to shove him off, William head-butted him directly in his forehead. Angelus stumbled back, grabbing his head, feeling a dull pain spread across the injured area. He rubbed at it absently, noticing that William was clutching his own head and wincing.

"Bloody hell, you've got a thick skull," William swore, shaking his head and rubbing the sore spot.

Angelus snarled and straightened up, blinking a couple of times to regain focus.

"I'm the one with a thick skull? Though in retrospect, you are a touch soft in the head."

William growled and dived at Angelus. The move caught Angelus off guard and unable to block the attack in time, couldn't prevent William from colliding with him and the two tumbled to the ground. Angelus snarled at finding himself on his back a second time, but couldn't get his hands free in time to block William's fists, which began a brutal assault on Angelus' face. The younger vamp got a good few hits in before Angelus grabbed hold of something heavy nearby and swung it at William's head. There was a loud clang and William fell to the side. Angelus sat up, realizing he was holding the head of the shovel he had broken earlier when about to stake the upstart. Using it as a prop, he shakily rose to his feet.

William was on all fours like a dog, shaking his head, no doubt trying to dispel the inevitable ringing in his ears after being clocked with a shovel. Angelus panted heavily, not because he had to so much as to vent his frustration, which had built up over the course of the fight. William was panting heavily too, but that was because the fool never stopped breathing. The sight pissed Angelus off more and, roaring, he kicked William savagely in the stomach, the sheer force sending William flying sideways where he collided with a wall and hit the floor, face down and spread eagled. Tossing his weapon away and wincing at the noise of it hitting the ground, Angelus strode over to where William lay.

Nudging him with his foot, Angelus watched as William struggled to roll over. The movement was accompanied by a loud groan and a cough.

"Satisfied now?" Angelus asked, suddenly too tired to care about beating William to within an inch of his unlife.

After everything they had been through since London, all Angelus wanted to do was rest, feed, and get the hell out of England permanently.

"You done?" William asked, groaning again as he raised himself up on his elbows.

"You're not?" Angelus retorted.

William chuckled until a coughing fit overwhelmed him. When he'd recovered, he sat up and met Angelus' eyes, his own sparkling with—what? Not life. That was impossible.

"I'll keep going until there's nothin' left, mate. Thought we were clear on that."

Angelus sighed and stalked off to where he had left his clothes, sweeping his hair out of his face.

"Fine. You don't want to learn. Sooner or later, _Spike_, you're going to have to grow up. If I can't teach you, I'll leave it to the next angry mob you rile up. That, or the Slayer." Angelus shrugged his jacket on and smoothed it down, adjusting his collar while watching William out of the corner of his eye.

At the word Slayer, William seemed to perk up. It certainly wiped the grin off his bloodied face. This reaction pleased Angelus. At least until the runt opened his trap again.

"Slayer. You've fought the Slayer?"

"I've had a run in with her once or twice. And the correct term is _a _Slayer. There may only be one at a time, but no Slayer lasts long. If you survive one meeting with her, you can almost guarantee it won't be the same lass the second time around."

"We could run into one of these Slayers then?" William asked.

He seemed more curious than worried and it added to Angelus' suspicion.

"Why? Are you planning on fighting one?"

"No." William stood up, grabbing his coat which Angelus tossed at him and slipping it on. "I'm planning on killing one."

The admission brought Angelus up short. He studied William, but the vampire was completely serious, his tone ice cold. Angelus cocked his head, taking in the change from an over confidant trouble maker to brutal predator. Deciding he'd had enough of trying to solve the riddle that was William, Angelus turned his back on him, grabbed Darla's elbow and headed further into the mine.

"Well then let's hope we find you one," he muttered, ignoring Darla's sideways glance as he let the dark tunnel swallow them up.


	15. Slayer

**Slayer**

_Peking 1900_

_August..._

There was another explosion and a rush of heat as more fires flared up around him. People were still screaming. It was a wonder their vocal chords hadn't been worn out by now. Clods of dirt leaped up from the ground and rose into the smoky, dust filled air as more cannon balls shattered the earth's surface. Spike couldn't keep the smile off his face as he took in the carnage around him. This was fun.

As much as he was enjoying the Rebellion, Spike had something more pressing to attend to than picking off the frightened citizens. Somewhere out here was a girl. A very special girl, and he had no doubts that she was right in the thick of this mess. Spike had left Drusilla and the others to their fun, claiming he wanted to take in the sights. After all, it wasn't every day you found yourself in the middle of an uprising, and being in China was a bonus. He knew telling them the truth would only lead to Angelus lecturing him again, throwing mocking insults and eventually deciding to tag along to see Spike get what he deserved. The last thing Spike wanted was to have Angelus around ruining the mood. He intended this to be his finest battle, and his git of a grandsire wasn't going to interfere.

When they'd arrived in China he hadn't thought it would be all that different from any other country they'd visited in the last twenty years. He hadn't been out of Europe before, so he'd supposed it might have something to offer. He never much cared where they travelled to. Their plans tended to revolve around Darla's whims. She grew bored with their surroundings after a few weeks and was always pressing Angelus to take her somewhere new, somewhere more exciting and unique. Angelus gave in to her desires and after a brief argument would grudgingly inform them that they would be leaving for wherever took his fancy the next night.

After making a kill one night, Spike had run into a demon who warned him of the Slayer's presence. Contrary to most demons and vamps Spike didn't want to stay out of her way. Thanking the demon for passing on the message, Spike stabbed him with one of his own long horns, after snapping the appendage off the thing's head. He'd then set about tracking down the elusive Slayer and made hunting her his project before Darla could decide it was time for them to move on again.

He stormed through the streets purposefully, his head whipping from left to right, ignoring the explosions and the flying debris. Turning a corner he came to an abrupt halt. There was a young girl in front of him. Terrified and bewildered she was spinning in circles, her hands over her ears trying to block out the deafening noise, tears streaming down her face while she wailed for what Spike assumed was help. He hadn't bothered to learn the language. It wasn't as if he needed to ask for anything, he just had to take what he wanted. _Fangs first, questions never_ as Angelus' saying went.

He walked forward slowly. He was ten feet from her before she even noticed him, her panic was that great. She started when she saw him and took a step back, uncertain of this foreigner. He smiled at her, taking another few steps forward. His senses perked up at the faintest presence behind him. He turned slightly in that direction, his smile growing before returning his attention to the girl. It was time to lay the bait.

He shifted into his vampire features and roared at the girl. As predicted she screamed and tried to flee. He darted after her. He was close enough to reach out and grab her when something barreled into him, sending him flying off to the side. He hit the ground, rolled and shot back to his feet in one swift maneuver.

"And there you are," he said, grinning wildly around his fangs.

There she was indeed. The Slayer was crouched before him in a catlike stance. One leg bent, the other stretched wide, her right hand holding her intricately carved stake up in the air behind her, and her left spread on the ground maintaining her balance. She was like a tigress protecting a cub as she placed herself between him and his potential prey, allowing the girl to stumble off into the chaos of Peking mid-riot. The Slayer was dressed in leather, her hair drawn into a long black braid that reached her lower back.

He looked her over once, liking what he saw. She was small, but clearly agile, and he didn't doubt her strength for a second. Another cannonball smashed into a nearby building and splinters and chunks of stone rained down beside them. This wouldn't do. He wanted someplace more fitting for this fight. He chuckled and, beckoning her forward, took off running back the way he'd come.

He knew she was following. He could feel her. His senses were warning him of the threat closing in on him. She was fast, just as he knew she'd be. He kept his speed even, not a full out sprint, but fast enough to make her work for it. He wasn't trying to escape, not after all the trouble he'd gone to trying to find her.

Now he had her. He spotted his destination up ahead, a temple he had passed earlier. Large jade dragon statues stood outside the entrance, guarding the sacred site. Spike decided it would be the perfect place to spill some Slayer blood. He increased his speed, racing past the statues and weaving between the large pillars dominating the temple. When he reached the large inner sanctum, he slowed to a halt, scanning his surroundings. This would do.

He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths to ease his excitement. His senses prickled and he opened his eyes. Slowly, he turned and looked over his shoulder. There she was, standing in the doorway, her shoulders rising and falling steadily as she breathed in and out. She wasn't out of breath but the sprint had brought her adrenaline to new heights and if he concentrated really hard, blocking out the sounds outside, he could hear her heart beating furiously. He could dance to that beat.

"I've been looking for you, Slayer," Spike said, drawing out the word Slayer.

She stared fixedly at him. He guessed she didn't speak English, but reckoned her reaction would be the same even if she did. This one just screamed discipline.

"Right then, no chit chat. Let's get right down to it, shall we?"

Spike snarled and shot forward, aiming a fist at her head. She ducked and spun, kicking him in the stomach. He stumbled back a few steps, and barely managed to regain his balance when she leapt towards him, fists flying.

This was different from what he was used to. She had moves. Spike could fight, but he wasn't adept at the kung fu strategy she was unleashing. She alternated between fists and feet, spinning, whirling, ducking, and jumping. She advanced swiftly on him, until he was struggling to block the flurry of blows.

Bending so far backwards that her hair brushed the dusty ground, she struck upwards with her right foot and hit him in the face. His lip split, and he tasted his own blood. He staggered backwards, arms flailing to prevent himself falling. When he found his feet again he had to spin around quickly to confront her as she darted around him. The stake had vanished and instead she'd produced a sword which she held in her right hand, slashing it impressively at the air, the steel singing as it danced around her. She ended the display in the crane stance, one foot raised, balancing against the other, her hand held forward, and the sword raised above her head pointing directly at him. She was a truly threatening figure.

Spike decided he needed to change his style. Roaring, he came at her again, this time with a spinning kick of his own. He succeeded in hitting her in the face, making her spin, and followed it with a punch which she managed to block with her arm. She brought the sword around, aiming for his neck, but he dropped to his knees and rolled, coming up behind her. She spun, aiming another kick at him which he blocked, punching her in the face, sending her head flying back.

He lunged in, fangs extended at the sight of her exposed throat, but she recovered and threw her body forward, bending over so he missed. She brought her foot up behind her, hitting him in the face again. She straightened and kicked him, in the chest this time, and he slammed into the solid pillar behind him.

Spike snarled. When she swung at him with the sword again, he dodged sideways and kicked her in the back so that she fell forward onto the pillar. He grabbed her shirt and threw her backwards onto the ground. The momentum carried her forward, but she was back on her feet instantly. He swung at her again, but she ducked. Her tiny fist shot up and connected with his nose, dazing him for an instant. She came at him with the sword again, spinning from left to right so fast he had no idea which side the strike would come from. She came up just short of his face, making him gasp before a speedy flick of her wrist brought metal against flesh, slicing his left eyebrow open.

Blood trickled down into his eye and Spike laughed. This was what he was hoping for. This was a real fight, a true battle between warriors.

She seemed insulted by his enthusiasm and cartwheeled, her feet striking him a solid blow that sent him reeling back again. He didn't care. He was full of adrenaline. This was an enemy he could fear. He was at death's door, but so was she.

"Just like I pictured it. This good for you?" he asked, bouncing on his toes with excitement and anticipation.

The sword again. She jumped mid swing, defying her smaller stature in an attempt to take his head off. She brought it down firmly and he sidestepped. Dropping low, she spun, attempting to remove his legs but he jumped over the deathly blade. She continued her spin as she came up, the sword heading for his chest as he landed back on the ground. He was ready and grabbed her arm, halting the attack. She kicked him backwards again, but he hit a dragon statue which bought him a moment.

She pushed forward, arcing the sword for another strike. He continued to dodge. She was a blur, but he was catching on to her movements. When she spun again, he readied himself. The sword came from his left. He sidestepped, grabbing her arm and forcing her forward, their combined strength driving the sword into the legs of a dragon statue. She shouted at the sight of the blade disappearing into the carving. He punched her and she fell sideways, crying out in pain.

He advanced, but she regained her confidence, using her body as a weapon. She aimed high kicks and solid punches his way, some of them landing directly on target, making him grunt and shout in pain. When her fist came at his face again he grabbed it, keeping it in a vice-like grip. Once more her foot rose to his face, making him release her.

They were face to face for a second before she backed away. Spike roared and followed her. She was hesitating now and it angered him. He kicked her, then punched left and right. He aimed another right hook at her, but she ducked and he missed. She kicked his back and he fell forward onto a stone pillar. He turned to see her pressed against the pillar opposite, one elbow wedged against it as her leg came up, her foot pinning him against the pillar by his throat. He grabbed her foot but couldn't remove it, the pressure she was forcing on him too great.

Her right hand emerged from under her shirt, revealing the sharp stake she'd had earlier. She raised it above her head and Spike's eyes widened. This was it. He was dust.

The stake came down. It was inches from his chest when an explosion blew open the shuttered window behind them. The force of the blast knocked the Slayer sideways. Spike didn't waste his chance. He twisted her foot and moved away from the wall, pushing forward so she tumbled onto the ground. She was soon on her feet again and ducked his follow up punch. He groaned when she kicked him in the midsection but raised his arms to block the next strike of her stake. Yanking her arm down, he kicked at it, and the weapon flew out of her grasp and clattered to the floor a few feet away. She spun again, elbowing him in the face and knocking him back. Quickly, she located her stake and bent to retrieve it.

That was his cue. He darted forward and snatched her hand before it could grab the lethal piece of wood. He forced her arm upwards, ducked and spun underneath it so he was behind her, her arm painfully wrenched behind her back at an awkward angle. She winced and whimpered in agony. His other arm wrapped around her chest and he forced her back against him.

Not wasting a second more, he lunged for her neck, burying his fangs into the soft flesh, her blood rushing into his eager mouth. The surge of power he felt at the first taste of the coppery fluid drove him mad and he pulled in huge mouthfuls, gulping her blood down as though dying from thirst. He drank his fill. With a primal, satisfied roar he pried his fangs from her neck, ripping the flesh, and panted for air. His body was pumped with adrenaline and stolen Slayer blood.

Slowly, she turned her head to him. Curious, he jerked her around in his arms so they were face to face. She whispered something to him, her eyes showing she was resigned to her fate. She was giving him her final message. That was her mistake. He wasn't noble. He wouldn't deliver her words to her loved ones if that's what they were. He had stolen her life, and now he would keep her dying words a secret, forever. Besides…

"Sorry, luv. I don't speak Chinese."

Her eyes closed and he tossed her to the ground where she lay motionless, while he grew accustomed to the sensations coursing through his undead body. The strength flowing through him was unbelievable. He flexed his fists, marveling at the surge of power. The cut above his eye was stinging like hell but he couldn't care less right now. He licked his lips, making sure not to waste any of the precious elixir. His first taste of Slayer blood.

"A fella could get used to this," he commented.

Spike cocked his head and looked at the small dark shape on the ground. The girl was young, he doubted if she was even eighteen yet, but she was a bloody killing marvel. She'd slain a lot of notoriously vicious demons and prevented an apocalypse or two, the last of which had triggered this Rebellion. He supposed not even she could prevent evil done by humans, not when she was sworn to protect them.

_Failed though, didn't you, ducks? One reckless young vampire defeated you. I wonder why that is?_

Spike squatted down next to her, moving her braid away from her face. She looked so delicate now, and peaceful. His face returned to its human form.

_That's it then. You can rest now, can't you? You were called to protect the world but you were just too damn tired to keep it up. No rest for the wicked._

Spike stood again, sniffing once in dismissal of those last thoughts.

_No rest for the good either, until you give up. Here's hoping the next bird has a bit more life in her than you did._

"Look at the wonderful mess you've made."

Spike recognized Dru's voice but didn't bother turning around. He wondered briefly how she'd found him, then cast those queries aside. She always found him. She'd never let him get too far away.

"That's a Slayer you've done in. Naughty, wicked, Spike." There was a command in her voice.

He turned to her. One long, delicate arm was raised slowly in his direction, beckoning him to her. He obeyed, walking steadily over to his sire. He looked down into her eyes. The normally blue irises had become black pools in the red glow of the temple. Studying her, he felt suddenly stronger, the demon within screamed for dominance. She was his sire, but she was also his mate. He snaked one arm behind her waist and roughly pulled her against him, making her gasp at his sudden demand. His thirst for violence and bloodshed fulfilled, a new desire made itself known, and Spike intended to take what he wanted.

"Did you ever hear them say, the blood of a Slayer is a powerful aphrodisiac?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Her hands came up to his shoulders and she gazed longingly at the red stain about his mouth before her gaze flickered to his eyes. She took up his habit of breathing, panting desperately. He knew his display was turning her on. Power and brutality attracted his Dark Princess, and she appeared prouder of him in this moment than she ever had. Spike decided this must have been one of the wonderfully terrible things he was destined for. She wanted him, her Black Prince, and for the first time, she wanted _only_ him. Her eyes told him that at this moment Angelus was a distant memory.

"Here now," he whispered seductively, raising a bloodstained finger in front of her face, "have a taste."

Her velvety tongue slipped out to savor his offering and she hummed happily at the flavor. Her lips wrapped around his finger drawing the digit into her mouth as far as the knuckle. She sucked in her cheeks and let her lips glide back up as she removed the coppery treat from his skin. The sight flared his desire for her even more. The demon took over and lifted its mate in the air, slamming her against a pillar and making her gasp again in surprise. Slowly, he lowered her down, allowing the length of her body to glide against his. Her hands came up to his neck and she pulled him to her. They kissed passionately, and she began to claw at his clothing. He leaned back and chuckled at her eagerness, allowing her to pull his braces down and tear open his shirt before she drew him back to her again. They fell to the floor as their need took over.

* * *

><p>Spike had almost forgotten about the Rebellion until they finally made their way outside again. The endorphins running through his system had dulled the sounds outside the temple, and he barely noticed the vibrations when the earth shook from the constant explosions. The couple staggered through the streets as if drunk, giddy from their tryst in the temple. Dru came up short suddenly and Spike bumped into her with a chuckle. Turning slightly, he saw why she'd stopped. Angelus and Darla were standing in front of them.<p>

"You two look as if you've been enjoying yourselves," Darla said, holding on to Angelus' arm.

"May I tell?" Dru asked Spike, eagerly.

The question made Angelus' eyebrows shoot up and he suddenly grew very interested in Spike. Smiling to himself, Spike leaned in closer to Dru and answered.

"No need to be humble, luv."

"My little Spike just killed himself a Slayer," Dru announced, practically jumping on the spot, her blue eyes shining and a broad grin on her face.

Spike leant his head against hers and turned to face his grandsires, leering at them. Angelus' eyes flicked up and down, observing Spike as if checking that it was the same vampire standing before him. He looked extremely pissed.

"Did you hear that?" Darla asked Angelus in disbelief.

Spike smirked. He'd finally done something that shocked and impressed the old bitch instead of just pissing her off.

"Congratulations," Angelus said, menacingly, "I guess that makes you one of us."

Spike punched him in the shoulder.

"No need to be bitter old man. One Slayer dies another rises. You'll still have your chance. How 'bout I give you first crack at the next one, eh?"

Angelus maintained his spiteful glare, refusing to rise to the bait. Spike grinned, one of _them_. Where in the history books was Angelus' name associated with a Slayer's death or Darla's or Dru's? Spike was the first of their line to kill a Slayer, but at least he'd earned whatever passed as respect from his elders now. Maybe, Angelus would quit lecturing him, though he sincerely doubted it.

"This Rebellion's startin' to bore me," Angelus complained. "Let's get out of here."

He stalked off leaving the rest of them to follow. Drusilla rubbed up against Spike like a cat, purring. He growled and grabbed her from behind then spun them and they followed after Angelus and Darla, laughing together as they went. He couldn't care less where Angelus took them next. So caught up in his mirth, Spike almost didn't notice when Darla leaned in closer to Angelus, whispering to him. Perking up, knowing she was talking about him when she glanced over her shoulder, he managed to pick up a few hushed words despite the noise around them.

"…time…should meet…finally ready, worthy to…use him, always looking for…serve him well."

Spike couldn't be sure what they were discussing exactly, but it sounded like Darla was suggesting they introduce him to someone. From the way Angelus was looking at her, it seemed that meeting whoever it was could be a very real possibility. Angelus seemed to waver for a moment. Casting a quick glance back at Spike, who pretended to remain oblivious to their conversation, Angelus gave one quick nod before fixing his gaze straight ahead again. Darla seemed satisfied, smiling to herself and taking Angelus' arm again.

Figuring it was worth a shot in the dark, Spike leaned in to place his mouth next to Dru's ear.

"Any idea what happens next, lamb?"

Drusilla did a little twirl, facing him and clutching his hands in hers.

"Now we go on a trip. Prince and Princess are going to visit the King and you'll be a real Knight my brave, beautiful Slayer of Slayers."

She smiled, skipping away. He ran to catch up and scooped her up in his arms, making her squeal. Darla and Angelus looked back at them and quickly turned away again. Such affectionate sights sickened them. Spike kissed Dru and spun around with her in his arms before carrying on after the other two.

"Slayer of Slayers? Mmm, I like that. Seems I've got a title of my own now," he said a little louder, knowing Angelus could hear him, confirming it when he saw the vampire's back stiffen.

Spike laughed again. He could definitely get used to this. He felt at one with his demon. Right here, right now, in the middle of a rebellion in Peking, surrounded by his sire and the grandsires that scorned him, he had done something remarkable. He'd ended the life of a Slayer. He had set in action a new chain of events. Somewhere in the world another girl was being called. Spike knew the likelihood of ever running into another Slayer was minimal, but he was sure that if he did, he wouldn't run from her. No, just like this one, he'd seek her out and they'd have a fight to the death.

"My boy's found his calling," Dru smiled up at him, stroking his cheek so he looked down at her. "You exist for the Slayer now," she added.

Suddenly, a shadow seemed to pass over her face. She frowned as though troubled and turned away from him crossly.

"Pet?" Spike asked, confused by the swift change in her mood.

"No. I won't allow it," she muttered, annoyed.

"Won't allow what? Dru?" Spike was even more confused.

"Put me down, Spike."

Frowning, he did as she asked, setting her gently down on her feet. She thanked him and walked ahead quickly. Spike stared after her then followed, wondering what was bothering her.

"Sunshine won't have him," Drusilla muttered.

Spike sighed. He rolled his eyes wondering how Angelus could think that Spike understood Dru. He caught her meaning now and again, and perhaps he was a little more perceptive than Angelus when it came to her riddles, but she existed in her own head half the time, and that was a place into which he was unwilling to venture.


	16. Lineage

**Lineage**

_St. Petersburg 1901_

_January..._

"Is there a reason we're standing here freezing our arses off?" Spike asked irritably, both hands shoved under his armpits as he stamped his feet to ensure that he could still feel them.

Even for a vampire, it was bloody cold to be standing in snow-covered Isaakievskaya Square in the middle of the night and in January no less. There wasn't a soul to be seen, just two vampires waiting around in front of the Monument to Nicholas I.

"I told you, we're going to meet someone," Angelus replied.

"We're going to meet someone," Spike mimicked, in a mockingly deep baritone he often employed when impersonating his grandsire.

Angelus didn't bother reacting. It seemed the older vampire had long ago decided to merely allow the young vamp to vent his frustrations, as Angelus continued to stare rigidly ahead despite Spike's attempts to rile him, his long black coat wrapped around him to combat the chill in the air. The silence between them lasted all of ten seconds.

"Who exactly _are_ we meeting? And how come we have to traipse all the way out here when Darla and Dru got a fancy escort from the hotel?" Spike asked, gritting his teeth at the memory of the smarmy git who'd shown up at the hotel earlier for the _ladies_.

Angelus stiffened and looked away to his left. Spike stared up at him, frowning suspiciously. Angelus sighed and shifted his feet. Spike remained motionless keeping his eyes locked on his grandsire, the first time Spike had stopped dancing on the spot since they'd arrived. Eventually Angelus gave in.

"What?" he snapped, whipping his head round to glare at Spike.

"It's your fault, isn't it?" Spike asked.

"No," Angelus countered, turning to stare sulkily ahead.

Spike looked up at the cloudy night sky, shaking his head and grinning before turning back to Angelus, pursing his lips and cocking his head.

"So what did you do then?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"_Yes_, you did."

"_No_," Angelus turned to glare at Spike again, "I didn't," he finished through gritted teeth.

"Well you can't blame it on me, because for once, _I_ didn't do anything. This is the first time I've been brought to meet Mr. Mysterious, so if we've been left out in the cold it has to be because of something _you_ did," he said pointing at Angelus' large forehead.

Angelus huffed and kicked the snow at his feet. He turned away again looking at the Cathedral across the street. Spike waited. Another ten seconds of solid staring got him an answer.

"He doesn't like me very much, all right?"

"Who's _he_ and why not?" Spike asked. "Not that I'd expect anyone to like you, mind."

Angelus gave Spike a sideways glance and sighed again, apparently resigned to the fact that Spike would keep pestering him until he came out with it.

"He's the Master."

"The Master of what?"

"The Master of the Order of Aurelius," Angelus answered, grimly.

Spike's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the snow in front of him for a moment. He vaguely remembered reading about the Master in the Watcher Diaries once. He was reported to be incredibly old and fearsome. He was also Darla's sire. Spike blinked. _Which would make him Angelus' grandsire._ Smirking Spike looked at Angelus again.

"So, we're going to visit your granddad then? Huh. I take it he's not very fond of his famous grandchilde? Well, well, well. Isn't that bloody interesting?"

"It's different," Angelus snapped.

"Oh yeah? How?"

Angelus folded his arms and rolled his eyes before facing Spike, who leaned back against the monument, waiting expectantly.

"I insulted him. I took Darla, his most loyal and prized worshipper away from him so he's not very enthusiastic about me paying him a visit. It's why Darla and Dru got an escort and we're left waiting for one of his minions to turn up and show us the way. Happy now?"

Spike nodded thoughtfully, slowly crossing one ankle over the other and adjusting his position against the cold marble to appear more comfortable.

"I see. So, Darla takes you home to Daddy. You offend him by not paying due respect, convince his childe to travel around with you, protecting you, when all he wants to do is dust you, correct?"

Angelus stared at Spike sourly. Fifteen seconds of silent staring passed this time.

"Like I said, it's completely different," Angelus muttered, turning away again.

"Oh yeah, completely," Spike answered, straightening up and taking a step forward so that they were side by side again.

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness in front of them. They watched its approach cautiously. As it drew closer, they saw it was a minion. He was a small vamp, dressed entirely in black, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was a vampire, showing his ridges and fangs, proudly. Clearly, this was because humans had far too much sense to stand around an empty square in St. Petersburg in the middle of the night in the winter.

Stopping twenty feet away, the figure stared at them for a moment. Silently, he beckoned them over with a wave. They took two steps before he turned his back on them, walking back the way he'd come. They took this to mean they were to follow him, but had better keep up as he wasn't going to wait around. Sharing a look, they hurried after the minion.

After walking through the snow for quite some time, the creature came to a halt in the middle of the street. Spike and Angelus joined him and looked around. As far as they could tell, there was nothing there.

"Soooo," Spike drawled, "where's the Boss' lair then?"

The minion grinned at them and pointed down. Frowning, they looked in the direction of his finger and noticed a round metal cover at their feet. Looking up quickly, Angelus snarled at the minion.

"You've got to be joking."

The minion smirked. Spike glanced from the minion, to Angelus, and back to the _doorway_ at their feet again.

"The _sewer_?" he asked in disbelief, turning to glare at Angelus. "The sodding sewer?" he growled.

Chuckling, the minion bent to lift and slide the cover out of the way then dropped down into the black abyss. A loud splash followed and both vampires stared down into the hole. Grimacing, Angelus released another long-suffering sigh and stepped to the edge.

"Let's go," he said, and before Spike could respond, he'd dropped down the hole too.

Another splash echoed up to the street above. Looking first left, then right, Spike clenched his jaw and, muttering a string of curses, bent and placed both hands either side of the hole, lowering himself down to the ladder. Once he'd gotten his head below ground level, he slid the cover back into place and then let go of the ladder, dropping down into the putrid sewer water. Some of the filthy water splashed up to his waist when he hit. He felt relief to discover that, upon standing, it was only ankle depth. Spreading his arms wide, Spike swore again then rolled his eyes and dropped his arms, shaking his head at the situation he'd found himself in. It was pitch black in the tunnel and Spike had to change to vampire form to see where he was going. Spotting Angelus and their guide up ahead, he jogged after them to catch up.

"More of granddad's hospitality, eh?" he commented, sarcastically.

"You were expecting a red carpet?" Angelus asked.

"Well considering Darla's high and mighty attitude, I figured she came from better stock than a sewer rat," Spike shot back.

"Appearances are deceiving," Angelus said, with a shrug.

They plodded on through the sewer, twisting, turning, this way and that before the minion ducked into a small alcove in the wall. With a quick glance at each other, Spike and Angelus followed. The hole in the wall opened up into a large passageway. Crawling through the gap, they entered the passage which was lit with torches sitting in sconces along the walls. It was still cold and smelly, but it was better than trudging through sewer water any longer.

"So, he prefers a dreary atmosphere to your posh style. No wonder Darla left him," Spike commented as they continued following the minion.

"He's of the old world. He believes vampires should live in caves and tombs instead of places built by humans." Angelus chuckled quietly, making Spike look over at him quickly. "Of course, it would be a lot more difficult for him to blend in the way we do."

Spike didn't understand what exactly Angelus meant by that, but he had certainly triggered a disapproving look, accompanied by a snarl, from their guide. Angelus just smirked at the minion and gestured for him to continue leading the way. Spike's curiosity about the Master rose. He expected a cold reception since it was apparent the Master had decided to treat him the same way he'd treated Angelus. Spike would never admit it, but he was beginning to see certain similarities between Angelus and himself in how their elders viewed them. Of course, that didn't mean he loathed Angelus any less.

Turning another corner, they met steps which had been carved into the cave floor. The steps ended at an imposing looking door. It was solid and made of iron, a gargoyle's head knocker glaring at them from its centre. Spike saw that the mouth was open and the metal ring lay secured between its sharp metal fangs. Grabbing hold of the ring, the minion banged loudly three times, and the noise boomed down the tunnel behind them. The echo faded away to silence, and they were left standing in the flickering torchlight again. Opening his mouth to speak, Angelus was cut off by the lock's screech as the door swung inward.

Angelus and Spike followed the minion through the doorway. The vampire who had opened the door stared at them through his yellow eyes as they walked past. Angelus ignored him, but Spike met his eyes and smirked. The vamp stared through him, then turned and closed the door with a loud clang.

This room was lit by torches and candles. Spike began to sense a theme. At least the smell wasn't so strong here. He tried to ignore the odor coming from his clothes. A large group of vampires all dressed in black, and all in their vampire forms, stood around the room in groups and fixed their attention on the two newcomers. Angelus glared around at all of them while Spike took it all in carefully.

_Yeah, not gonna be liked much round here either_, he thought, as he took in the amber eyes studying him with disapproval.

Their guide walked over to a shadowy entranceway and stood against the wall. He gestured with one arm that they were to step through into the chamber beyond. Angelus paused for a final glower at their audience before leading the way into the Master's domain. Spike followed quietly. He was eager to see this 'Master,' but was hoping to keep the attention off himself for a while so he could enjoy the predictably sour greeting between his two male family members.

Upon entering, the first thing Spike noticed was the large altar dominating the room, made out of stone and covered with intricate carvings. A groove ran down the front of the altar from the surface and ended above a chalice that was slotted into its base.

_Adds to the ambience I s'pose_, Spike thought.

Behind this altar was a throne, and it too was carved out of stone. Darla and Dru stood just to the right of it, and smiled as their male counterparts walked in. Both women were wearing their human faces. To the left of the throne sat a font, filled with what Spike identified as blood. Two ornate candelabras depicting grotesque figures writhing in agony were placed on either side of the font, casting a gloomy light upon it and the throne's occupant. Finally letting his gaze settle on the seated figure, he did a double take.

He understood immediately what Angelus had meant about the Master's inability to blend in. The ancient vampire barely resembled a human at all. His face was covered in bumps and ridges, his ears were thin and pointed, resembling a bat's, and he was hairless. The Master's skin was paler than anything Spike had ever seen and was covered with blue veins. Yellowed fangs protruded from thin, blood red lips, and his eyes were a glowing red instead of yellow. The red orbs observed Angelus with lethal disdain.

Spike gulped, suddenly glad to be hidden behind Angelus' hulking form. The Master's fondness for black was apparent in his own wardrobe too, adorned as he was in black leather. One long, pale fingernail tapped against the stone arm of his throne as he waited for Angelus to approach.

"Angelus," he said, and Spike was surprised to find that someone could inflect more loathing in their voice than Angelus did when he spoke to Spike.

"Heinrich."

Angelus' arrogant response provoked a disapproving growl from the throne. The noise reverberated through Spike's very bones and he shuddered.

"You will address me as 'My Lord,' Angelus, or suffer the consequences," the Master replied, grimly.

Angelus bowed mockingly and allowed his vampire features to melt away when his gaze once more met the Master's. The Master raised his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darla's favored pet.

"Travelling around the world hasn't improved your sense of propriety, I see."

"When you're at the top of the food chain, you don't need to consider it," Angelus responded, off-handedly.

"Well you're not at the top now, vermin."

The Master scratched his nails along the stone, as if he was imagining drawing them across Angelus' face.

"My Lord," Darla hastened to diffuse the tension between her childe and her sire, and Spike was taken aback by the timid sound of her voice. "Perhaps that is a lesson you should also impart to the newest addition to our line, Drusilla's pet," Darla turned a scathing glance in Spike's direction and her voice resumed its spiteful tone, "Spike."

The Master turned from his childe to where Spike stood, half hidden behind Angelus. One long and bony finger beckoned the young vamp forward. Spike drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, stepping around Angelus to face the leader of their Clan.

The Master's red eyes flicked up and down as he observed Spike slowly. He took his time, and Spike could feel the tension in him rising. It was all he could do not to fidget under the scrutiny, inwardly twitching and longing to tell the monstrous git to '_bloody well get on with it already_.'

"Spike," the Master said at last, his gaze locking with Spike's. "So Drusilla brought a plaything home, did she?" The Master's gaze flicking to Angelus for a second as a smile tugged at his lips. "And why did our dear Drusilla decide to turn this one instead of feed off him?"

"She believes he's destined for great things," Angelus answered. "Has a notion he can leave his mark on history in blood like the rest of us."

"Does she now?" The Master grinned coldly as his eyes swept over Spike again. "I've heard Angelus' get has a certain _intuition_. Tell me, Spike, are you worthy of such an opinion?"

Spike could feel Angelus' eyes boring a hole into him, waiting for his response. He was wise enough to realize that pissing Batface off would have him staked very rapidly. Without Darla's protection, Dru's fondness for him would count for nothing. On the other hand, he didn't want Angelus to have the satisfaction of seeing him cower, even to such a dangerous and old vampire as the one he now stood before. Plus, he didn't particularly want to bow down before the ugly sod.

Spike knelt before the Master on one knee and bowed his head low, showing due respect. The Master cocked his head. However, when Spike looked up again, it was with his human face. Darla scowled and the Master leaned forward in his chair slightly, both hands scratching at his throne.

"If I wasn't destined and all that, I wouldn't have been brought before you, would I?" Spike asked, staring into the Master's hellish red eyes defiantly.

"This is what you meant by his lack of respect," the Master said to Darla before turning his attention to Angelus. "It seems you can't keep your subordinates in line, Angelus."

"No more than you can, apparently," Angelus shot back.

The tension in the room rose. Darla wrung her hands, her eyes flicking between Angelus and the Master.

"I killed a Slayer," Spike said.

The chamber went quiet. Spike could hear a faint dripping noise in the cave he hadn't noticed earlier. All eyes had turned to him. The Master, who had been facing Angelus sinisterly, eased back in his throne again. Tilting his head to the right, he observed Spike with more interest.

"Did you now?" The Master's voice echoed around the room.

Spike maintained eye contact while the Master raised his right hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Cupping his head in his hand, the ugly vamp slowly tapped his index finger against his cheek, considering Spike.

"That's quite an achievement. Especially for someone who was only turned—?" His eyes flicked over to Darla.

"Twenty years ago, Master," Darla answered, bowing her head respectfully.

"Really?" the Master asked, his interest obviously piqued. "Well, well. Maybe Drusilla found herself a prodigy after all."

Darla's eyes narrowed before she lowered her head. Clearly, Miss High and Mighty was put out by having Drusilla's addition to their family admired while her own was cast aside and looked upon with disgust.

"Tell me, Spike, how did she taste?"

Spike thought for a minute, remembering the flow of blood from the girl's neck that had filled him with such power. The adrenaline rush had been overwhelming. The taste of it was…coppery, as all blood is, but something else was there too. A trace of something not quite human lay beneath the expected flavor, something cold, feral, demonic.

"She tasted," Spike began, pausing as he considered how to describe it. Looking up into the Master's glowing red eyes, Spike wondered why the hell he should care how he described it. The Master didn't—his interest amounted to mild curiosity at best. "She tasted like the Orient."

The Master frowned in confusion. At least Spike assumed that's what he did. It was hard to tell with all those wrinkles.

"It was during the Boxer Rebellion. She was from Peking," Spike clarified.

"I see," the Master murmured, displeased.

Spike sighed and inwardly rolled his eyes. He had to guard his outward expressions. He knew where that would get him.

"It was powerful. I'd never felt so—well, so alive," Spike added, deciding humor was out when talking to the big guy.

The Master's eyes seemed to brighten at that and his thin lips stretched around his fangs as he grinned. Drusilla giggled and he turned curiously in her direction.

"It turned my little doggie into a Big. Bad. Wolf." Drusilla laughed again, her eyes meeting Spike's and holding his gaze.

"It did at that," Spike agreed with a smirk.

"He's been difficult," Darla cut in, scowling at Spike as she addressed the Master, "but since he's managed to kill a Slayer we thought you might want to observe him yourself. You always said you could use stronger followers. If he is a," Darla paused, appearing to struggle to get the next word out, "_prodigy_," another glower at Spike, "then he could be useful to you."

_So that's what this is really all about then_, Spike thought. _ They want to fob me off on Batface. Get me out of their hair without dusting me. Well if they think I'm gonna sit around letting that sod give me orders and doing his bidding like some low life minion, they're in for a shock._

Spike glared back at Darla, his eyes narrowing. Predictably, she turned her pert little nose up at him in contempt and looked away.

_Evil old bint._

"I don't doubt that he would be useful, my dear," the Master said, at last, "especially considering my current plans."

That caught the attention of all the Master's descendants. Spike could practically see the gears in Angelus' head turning as he became instantly suspicious, trying to figure out what the Master's latest plan was. They were all intrigued. The Master seemed oblivious to his rapt audience, but Spike wasn't fooled for a second. He knew the Master was aware of the effect of his words. Knew that it had been said to rouse their interest and give them no choice but to stay, out of sheer curiosity. Even if Spike didn't care what the old fart was up to, Angelus and Darla would simply _have_ to know, and Spike doubted that Dru would leave without Daddy, and he didn't fancy an argument with her.

"It's the difficult part that makes me wonder," the Master continued, thoughtfully, tapping his finger against his chin again. "I know what an unruly member of the Clan is like," his eyes flicked over Angelus briefly, "and I certainly don't need two of them."

Angelus grunted and looked away. Spike's jaw ticced. He didn't want to be judged for Forehead's actions, even if he had no intention of lying down at the Master's feet.

"I suppose he deserves a chance to prove himself. Fine. He can stay. You all can," the Master announced, sitting straight up on his throne. "But you do exactly as I say or I'll have you cast out and you will never set foot in my domain again, understood?"

Darla nodded instantly, a cat that got the cream grin on her face. Angelus huffed and tipped his head in disgruntled acknowledgment. Drusilla clapped her hands, nodding eagerly, and Spike nodded once.

"Good." The Master smiled—an unpleasant sight. Spike preferred it when the old bat scowled. It seemed more natural and—fitting somehow. "Andrei!" the Master called.

A minion scurried into the room, dropping to his knees a little behind Spike and bowing low.

"Master," he said, never raising his head as he stood.

"Bring me the chest," the Master ordered.

Andrei bowed again and hurried off to a chamber behind the wall. When he returned, he carried a small black box which bore a symbol on all four sides and on the lid. It vaguely resembled the outline of an upright arrowhead with three lethally sharpened points. Andrei brought it before the Master, dropping to his knees again and holding the box before him.

The Master leaned forward and opened the box. He dipped his hand inside and pulled out a small object. He held whatever it was up between his thumb and forefinger, examining it in the poor lighting. Andrei scurried backwards and rose, moving to stand behind Spike again, still clutching the box dutifully. Grinning, the Master rose from his chair. He closed the small distance between himself and Spike and stopped, looking down.

Spike raised his head, waiting.

"Your hand, Aurelian," the Master demanded.

With the barest hesitation, Spike raised his left hand. The Master grabbed his wrist, squeezing painfully. Spike clenched his jaw but refused to cry out or wince. The Master brought the object down, and Spike saw that it was a ring. Slowly, the Master slipped it onto Spike's ring finger. The ring felt heavy, the large stone weighing it down, and the metal was chilly even against Spike's cold skin. It was a little tight and pinched him. The Master dropped his hand and Spike gripped his wrist, massaging it as he studied the ring. The band was nothing special—a solid dark metal, but it was the stone that caught his eye.

It was oval and black as coal, the faintest trace of grey flecks running through it. What stood out the most was the blood red symbol embedded in the stone, shining up at him; the same symbol that had been carved on the box. He realized he'd seen a ring similar to this one before. Darla had one she wore constantly, fondling it absently when her attention was elsewhere. Up close, Spike saw that the Master was wearing one as well. Spike finally caught the symbol's meaning. It wasn't an arrowhead, it was an A.

The Master stepped back. "Rise, Aurelian."

Spike did as commanded, feeling his knee creak and his muscles stretch painfully from genuflecting for so long on the cold, damp ground. He met the Master's eyes.

"Welcome to the Order, Spike."


	17. Alleigance

**Allegiance**

_St. Petersburg 1901_

_January..._

Spike rolled over onto his side, grumbling to himself about the cold slab of stone beneath him. The thin sheet between his body and the surface of his _bed_ did little to mask the fact that he was attempting to sleep on a rock. Sighing, he shifted onto his back again and stared up at the damp patch above him.

He had never been keen on the posh lifestyle Angelus favored, but he would at least have preferred a proper bed. Hell, even a camp bed would be more comfortable. The Master had only one bed in the cave, and he had given that to Darla and Dru. Since the Master spent more time in his throne room than anywhere else, Angelus and Spike had no choice but to share a tiny chamber with small ledges carved out of the walls serving as beds.

_And that's another downside to this little arrangement_, Spike thought, glancing over at the Angelus' back huddled beneath a flimsy blanket on the ledge opposite.

_Sharing a room with that ponce. It's bad enough I have to travel the world with his disapproving glares and empty threats hangin' over me everywhere we go, now I have to share a room with him too? Too much time in a confined space with him and one of us is goin' to end up dust._

Spike flipped over onto his stomach and glared down at the green rag posing as a sheet beneath him. It smelled funny. Spike sniffed with distaste and, folding his arms beneath him, rested his chin on a forearm, thinking.

_Wonder what this grand plan of Batface's is then? Don't s'pose he'll be sharin' anytime soon. Least not 'til Angelus is firmly under his thumb._

Spike narrowed his eyes.

_And we've all sworn our allegiance to him. Last thing I want is to owe loyalty to that twisted bastard._

The glint of red from his ring caught Spike's attention and he raised his head to examine it again. The sharp points of the red A symbol glared up at him from the black setting, reminding him of a pair of glowing red eyes staring coldly into him. He wondered briefly why Darla had one but Angelus and Dru were ringless.

When he thought about it, the Master's contempt for Angelus and his arrogant ways probably explained why he hadn't earned himself an official ring, declaring him to be part of the Master's family. Since Dru was Angelus' childe, the Master was probably unwilling to give her that special _honor_ too. Spike, on the other hand, was at odds with Angelus, and bestowing the ring on him was a way for the Master to slight the sod. Killing a Slayer might have earned him the right, but chances were it was the former reason that swayed the Master's decision. It figured that Batface would use Spike as a way to slight the great git.

Spike exhaled angrily and flipped over to his back again, swearing when his elbow scraped against the wall. There was a loud growling sound before Angelus' voice boomed around the tiny chamber.

"Spike, stop moving around and go to sleep before I chain you to that blasted slab!"

"Thought Darla had the chains with her, unless she's handed them over to the Master. He looks like the sort that could always use more chains."

Another loud growl accompanied by a threatening snarl came from the lump beneath the blanket.

"I'm not going to warn you again. Go to sleep!"

Spike smirked, ready to retort in his typical snarky manner when he decided there wasn't much point. They were obviously going to be stuck here for the next few days at least, and there was no need to antagonize the git unnecessarily.

"Useless, arrogant, sorry excuse for a vampire," Angelus muttered, pulling the blanket around him even more.

_Then again…_

"Well, thank god for that. If I had to listen to you yammer on about all the nasty little punishments you had in store for me if I didn't go to sleep, I wouldn't have been able to hear myself think."

"Spike," Angelus warned.

"I mean how many empty threats can you come up with anyway? Let's see, my last count was a hundred and thirty two and that's just since we left China. Sooner or later you're going to run out."

"Spike!"

"Haven't you ever heard of pacing yourself?"

The blanket flew up into the air and Angelus rose from his ledge, his hair mussed from being under the blanket. He glared daggers at Spike who couldn't resist a chuckle at the ridiculousness of Angelus' hairstyle.

"Pity you don't have a reflection, mate. You should see yourself right now. Don't think they'd let you in the Country Club sportin' that look."

Angelus vamped out and made a dash for Spike who rolled off the ledge before Angelus could reach him. The larger vamp collapsed against the hard rock, banging his enormous forehead against the wall. Spike got to his feet and turned around to see Angelus clutching his head and groaning. He couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing.

"That does it. I've had it with your games, William!"

Angelus went for Spike's throat. Spike dodged and kicked Angelus in the ribs, sending him crashing into the opposite wall.

"My name is Spike or are you already that forgetful, old man?" Spike taunted.

Spike was caught off guard when everything suddenly went black. He barely had time to register the fact that Angelus had tossed his blanket over Spike's head and that was why the lights had gone out, before he was knocked backwards violently, crashing to the floor. When he finally extricated himself from the musty blanket he was met by a pair of angry golden eyes as Angelus grasped him by the throat with both hands and squeezed.

Spike gasped. He never could grow accustomed to not breathing and even though choking couldn't kill a man who was already dead, it still hurt like hell, and he panicked. He grabbed at Angelus' meaty hands, trying to pry them off his neck while Angelus grinned down at him, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. Spike growled and kneed Angelus in the groin which was very effective at wiping the smile off the bastard's face.

"Aargh! You dirty bastard. I'll wring your blasted neck yet you prick."

"No place for fightin' fair amongst vampires," Spike spat, kicking Angelus off him.

Angelus landed on the floor with a thump and Spike got to his feet. He hadn't been on his feet for two seconds before Angelus kicked out, sweeping Spike's legs from under him and sending him crashing back to the floor again.

"Ow!"

"You'll do a lot more than say 'Ow!' when I'm done with you, Willie-boy."

"Don't fucking call me that!"

Spike vamped out and they went for each other, colliding and rolling along the floor until they hit a wall. Spike ended up on top but Angelus punched him hard in the face. Spike retaliated by biting Angelus on the arm, making him roar in pain. Angelus smashed his fist into Spike's kidney to make him let go, then punched him again, making Spike fall sideways and off him. Spike's fist was drawn back, but just before he let fly into Angelus' grinning face, the door to their small chamber slammed open. Both vampires looked up, startled.

Andrei, the Master's minion, stood in the doorway looking down at them both in confusion. They stared up at him, Angelus on his back, one hand gripping Spike's shirt and the other bunched into a fist in mid air, and Spike kneeling on the ground next to him, one hand holding Angelus' shirt by the collar, the other also a fist that was drawn back where he was preparing to punch his grandsire. Their vampire faces melted away and they continued to stare at Andrei, frozen in their positions.

"The Master wishes to see you. Meet him in the main chamber in five minutes." Andrei took one last look at the two vampires on the floor and shook his head, walking away and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Spike and Angelus stared at the door for a minute before slowly releasing each other and rising to their feet. Ignoring one another, they pulled on their jackets and straightened themselves up. Finally presentable, they turned and headed for the door, Spike reaching the handle first and swinging it open—only for them to get stuck in the narrow doorway.

They had attempted to pass through at the same time and instead successfully wedged themselves between the cold iron sides of the doorway. Sucking in his cheeks, Spike felt Angelus tense up next to him. Refusing to look at him, Spike raised his right arm and shifted back, grudgingly allowing Angelus to walk through ahead of him, knowing that if he hadn't, they'd have been stuck in that doorway for the rest of their immortal un-lives.

Angelus stormed through and rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side as though to relieve tension before carrying on towards the main chamber. Spike chewed on the inside of his cheek and slowly followed.

_Oh yeah. One of us will definitely be dust soon if this keeps up._

Spike and Angelus walked into the main chamber and stood before the altar and the Master seated upon his throne. His eyes scanned them both, obviously taking in the trickle of blood on Angelus' brow and the early signs of bruising on their faces. He glanced at Andrei in the corner briefly, and his mouth twitched into a half smile before he turned back to his family members, all business once again.

"I trust you both enjoyed your brief…_rest_." He scanned their bruises again.

"Is there a reason you called us here? It's not yet nightfall," Angelus interrupted, in no mood for the Master's poor sense of humor and teasing.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is," the Master answered, off-handedly. "I want you to get started on work. Andrei here will lead you to the tunnel, give you your equipment and you can work up an appetite before hunting tonight."

Angelus and Spike stared at him, dumb-founded. Eventually, Angelus shook his head and, scowling, questioned the unexpected command.

"Work? What work is there that needs doing now? What's so urgent you can't even let us kip for the day? We had a long journey to come here."

"From what I hear you have plenty of energy left that could be put to much more productive use than a dog fight. You're here to serve me. I've given you an order. Now go, get to work."

The Master flicked his hand at them dismissively just as another minion entered the room with a book and walked up to him, whispering to the Master who nodded, listening intently. Spike and Angelus remained in the room, unsure of what to do. Spike chanced a glance at his grandsire and reckoned he could see steam rising from his ears. His attention was pulled back to Andrei who moved to stand in front of them, a sadistic grin on his face.

"Follow me."

He turned and led them out into the outer chamber where four or five of the Master's minions stood gathered around, keeping guard and awaiting orders from their leader, who apparently slept very little.

_Don't see why he even owns a bed if he's just gonna sit on that throne of his all day and night. Think he could let the family member with the newly acquired ring have the bed if he really wanted to shove it in Angelus' face._

There was more chance of Angelus bursting into song, of course. It was all to do with principle, and the Master would never give his comfy king bed to Spike and Dru. And he wouldn't have his precious Darla slumming it on a rock. Spike sighed as he had to change into his vampire face again as they weaved through yet another darkened tunnel in this honeycomb maze of caves beneath St. Petersburg.

As they walked further down the tunnel, they heard banging noises and the sound of breaking rock. Grunts and shouts reached their ears next and they could smell and taste dust in the air. The noises got louder until finally they turned a corner and saw the cause. Several minions were working on expanding a chamber as large as the main one. Crates of tools and carts filled with chunks of rock rested against the walls. Support beams were being secured in place, ensuring that the roof didn't cave in on them as they dug farther and farther into the tunnel.

Andrei walked over to a crate, grabbed a couple of pickaxes and tossed them at Angelus and Spike. Both vamps reflexively caught the tools then stared down at them, bewildered. Andrei grinned again.

"Get to work."

Angelus snarled and shoved the pickaxe against the minion's chest, but Andrei refused to take it. "I don't do manual labor," Angelus growled out.

"Eh, make that _we_," Spike added.

Andrei glanced down at the pickaxe and then shoved it back at Angelus the same way he'd done to Andrei.

"Well the Master says, 'you do now,' so get," Andrei let go of the pickaxe and stepped back, smugly, "to work."

"I'm not some lowly minion," Angelus insisted.

Andrei didn't even bothering answering. He looked behind him at the vampire's still hard at work.

"Gregor, Ivan, break time."

Two vampires ceased attacking the rock wall and dropped their tools into a nearby crate. They followed Andrei out of the tunnel, sneering at Spike and Angelus as they passed. Spike growled at them, then looked down at the pickaxe in his hand and over at Angelus who was doing the same.

"Riiiight. Nice little trip home to the folks you brought me on. What now, oh fearless leader?"

Angelus stripped off his jacket and shirt and glared at the wall as if it were an enemy. "We work."

Spike's eyes practically leapt out of his head as he watched Angelus stride up to the wall and begin whacking at it with the pickaxe, chips of stone whizzing by his face as he beat the stone wall into submission.

"Oh you are joking aren't you? What happened to not being some lowly minion? I thought being members of the Clan exempted us from this kind of _work_ or does every day old fledge get one of these?" Spike asked, holding up his left hand and wiggling his ring finger, the red A glinting in the dim torchlight.

Angelus turned around with a deadly serious look on his face.

"There's nothing to be gained from confronting him now. This is all part of his welcome home. He's putting us to work to see how agreeable we'll be. I'll let it slide this time, but if he thinks I'm doing this tomorrow, I know where the sharp end of this," he held up the pickaxe threateningly, "will be going."

"Don't you mean the wooden part," Spike replied with a snort, as if he believed Angelus would actually take on the old man.

"Wouldn't want to kill him before I find out what he's up to," Angelus answered with a wry smile, turning back to the wall to give it another good whack.

Spike rolled his eyes. He knew it. Angelus was hooked in by the Master's bait. He was no better than an ass that'd had a carrot dangled in front of its nose, never noticing the heavy cart it was dragging behind it. Single minded and stubborn. Yep, an ass was precisely the right description for the ponce. Grumbling to himself Spike shrugged out of his coat and joined Angelus, deciding the best course of action was to go along with the Master's wishes, at least until Angelus figured out he wasn't likely to get any answers from the git.

* * *

><p>Being a vampire didn't make the work any less back breaking. They'd been working for hours and the lack of sleep meant fatigue was quickly setting in. They'd made good progress considering they were already tired and hungry before they'd started, but both were fed up with the monotony of work that had no end in sight. Why they were even expanding this maze was beyond Spike, and Angelus had no clue either, since he told Spike to shut up and keep working when asked. Spike had stripped to his waist long ago and the two of them stood there covered in dust and dirt. Spike actually longed for his stone slab in their cramped chamber. He reckoned he could sleep on a bed of nails just now and not even care. As he wiped dust from his eyes, he faintly registered the presence of another vampire behind them.<p>

"You can stop now."

Angelus and Spike turned. It was Andrei again. He must be one of the Master's favorites.

"Well it's about bloody time," Spike said, tossing the pickaxe into a crate and grabbing his shirt.

Angelus did the same, not speaking, merely awaiting more instructions from Andrei. Spike wasn't used to him being so quiet. He glanced from Angelus to Andrei as they stared each other down, each looking as if they expected the other to whip out a stake any second.

"What?" Spike asked, annoyed.

He was sick of these little pissing contests between Angelus and the Master's minions. For someone who didn't want to sink that low, Angelus was acting an awful lot like he cared whether the Master valued him more than his worshippers or not. Andrei turned away from Angelus and looked down his nose at Spike.

"The Master wants to speak to you. Get cleaned up."

With that, the little prick stalked off back up the tunnel. Spike growled and tugged his shirt on, swiftly locating his jacket and thrusting his arms into the sleeves. He swept his hair out of his face and kicked at a lump of rock at his feet, sending it crashing against a cart. The sound of it banging against the metal reverberated around the chamber and made dust fall from the beams above their heads.

"Snobby, little, self righteous prig. He's lucky I don't tear that little head of his clean off. Shoving it up his arse would be an improvement, if it wasn't already stuck up there. Clean up," Spike snorted. "Like there's anywhere to get cleaned up down here."

"Come on, best not to keep the Master waiting," Angelus said, leading the way.

"What is the matter with you, eh?" Spike asked, as he hurried after Angelus. "You know he's not gonna tell us anything. He's toying with us. Watchin' us run around doing his bidding while he has a good laugh. We shouldn't even be here. I'm a true Aurelian now, bloody fantastic, but if that means I have to mine away in some smelly rotten tunnel next to the sewers for a vampire that's lucky he can't see his reflection for eternity, I'd rather pass on that honor thank you very much."

Angelus stopped and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to Spike.

"Do you ever shut your trap?"

Spike's mouth opened instantly but a meaty finger held up to his face silenced him.

"Never mind, I know you don't. Look, Spike, I'm no happier about this than you are. I'm playing by the Master's rules, for now. If I start something, we'll be put right back to work, and if we refuse, we'll be tossed out in the cold without Darla or Dru. We go, we feed, we come back, possibly rest, and sort out our rightful status here later, understood?"

Spike scowled in response. Angelus gave him a warning glare for a few seconds before continuing towards the main chamber. Spike gritted his teeth and kept any further complaints to himself, for now.

* * *

><p>Darla and Drusilla seemed surprised to see them enter from the outer chamber instead of from their sleeping quarters, and equally surprised to see the state they were both in, caked as they were in dirt.<p>

"Where have you two been?" Darla enquired from her place perched on a low stool next to the Master. Drusilla, on her other side, was busy petting one of the dolls she carried everywhere.

Angelus and Spike both dropped their vampire faces as they entered, not quite so willing to succumb to all the Master's wishes by granting him that symbol of appreciation. Old Batface's nose wrinkled as much as it could but he said nothing, one arm propping up his head in a bored manner.

"Oh, we've just been helping out the Master with some important digging," Angelus said, holding his head up and waiting to catch the Master's eye.

"All day?" Darla asked in disbelief.

"We had some spare energy," Angelus answered, giving her a quick glance before turning his attention back to the Master.

"Oh," Darla said. "Good…I suppose."

"It looks like you boys worked up quite the appetite. You'd best take the ladies out for something to eat. They're a little peckish," the Master said, grinning at Angelus and Spike as he took in their filthy clothes.

_Figures. All he wants is to drop us down a peg or two. Rub our noses in the dirt because we're prettier than him_, Spike thought, wondering how soon he could convince Dru to abandon the others and get the hell out of St. Petersburg. _Maybe if I bought her a new doll? Somethin' really nice, with a frilly dress?_

"You don't want us to bring anyone back for you?" Angelus asked, in what Spike supposed was his most pleasant tone, but which somehow still came across as arrogant.

"I have plenty of people around to do that for me. After all, I don't expect a direct member of my line to perform such a menial task as catering for me," the Master responded with a wicked gleam in his red eyes.

Spike scoffed, but luckily Angelus hid the sound with his own snort of outrage. Balling his hands into fists, Angelus took a menacing step forward but the Master didn't even blink.

"So what was all that about earlier? We're too good to fetch you a meal but not to serve as digging moles?"

"That's entirely the point, Angelus," the Master retorted, his temper flaring at last. "You've done nothing but dig a hole for yourself since you entered the Order. You think by coming here and further insulting me, testing my patience, I'd treat you as anything other than the filth you are?"

"You have something planned. I'll stand by you, but only if you let me in on this big secret. I was wrong to insult you, I'll grant you that," Angelus said.

Spike spluttered and gaped at his grandsire. He couldn't believe he'd just heard Angelus admit he was wrong. The rest of the room reacted in much the same way; even Angelus himself seemed surprised. The only one unaffected was Dru who was humming to herself while stroking her dolly's hair.

"But you can't treat me like a slave much longer. I'm one of the most feared vampires in existence," Angelus went on, persuasively, "I can help you. Whatever you're plotting, if every member of the Clan is by your side, don't you think you'd be unstoppable?"

_He talks up a show, have to hand him that._ Spike thought, as he watched the Master consider the proposal.

Angelus paused, studying the Master intently. Spike could see the flicker of satisfaction in Angelus' dark eyes. He knew that look. It was sheer evil intent fuelled by self confidence. The broody bastard could be a cocky git most of the time, but when he got that look, he was usually right about the results.

_Convincing prick._

"Treat us like some common worshippers," Angelus continued, meeting the Master's eyes again, "and we walk. I'll take my women and go."

Spike coughed loudly, glaring pointedly at Angelus and the Master quirked an eye in his direction with amusement. Angelus rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips, adding a long, dramatic, put upon sigh for effect.

"And Spike," he added, reluctantly.

"What makes you think they'll go with you?" the Master asked, his eyes falling on Darla.

It was obvious she was the one they were really discussing. She was the prize. Drusilla and Spike were merely caught on the sidelines. It was Darla the Master cherished.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've stolen from you," Angelus answered, his eyes, too, landing on the reason for their rivalry.

Spike made his way over to Dru, stepping behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned forward to rest his chin on her shoulder while she rocked herself and hummed. She reached a hand up behind her to pet his neck tenderly then continued to stroke her doll, both of them observing the unspoken battle over the blonde vampiress.

"Very well," the Master conceded, sliding back in his throne, "I'll let you in on my secret."

Angelus grinned, gleefully. He threw a satisfied smirk at Spike, who simply rolled his eyes, before facing the Master again. The Master held up a hand to signal that he wasn't finished yet.

"However, you'll have to wait until I've fed. I suggest you take the women and," he glanced at Spike, "Spike, and do the same. Have yourselves a nice long rest, and then we'll discuss it."

Angelus didn't seem very pleased with having to wait. He paused momentarily before nodding his acquiescence. The Master waved them away and Angelus spun to face Darla.

"Let's go." He began walking toward the outer chamber when Darla called him back.

"Angelus."

He turned.

"This way," she said, smiling as she pointed to a dark corner behind her that Spike realized was another passageway. "I'd rather not take the sewer exit."

The Master gave a smirk and Spike huffed. It was too bloody typical of the Master to make them trudge through the sewer when he had another entrance. Angelus growled, before storming past them and leading the way through the more pleasant exit.


	18. Grand Plans

**Grand Plans**

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry guys, made a mistake on the last two chapters and had the setting down as Prague when it should have been St. Petersburg. That's what happens when you stop posting and writing for a long time and forget what you were doing with a story. I went back and edited the chapters everywhere it's been posted once I realised my mistake so it's all good now. So yeah, the Master's lair is underneath St. Petersburg not Prague.

* * *

><p><em>St. Petersburg 1901<em>

_January..._

When they returned, Spike collapsed on his stone slab feeling more than happy to bypass another audience with the Master. He was so exhausted he didn't bother removing his coat or tugging the flimsy sheet over him. Instead, he simply sprawled face down against the cold surface and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of a full stomach and waiting for blackness to overcome him. Unfortunately, his roommate had other ideas.

Angelus paced rapidly up and down in the narrow space between their respective beds. Spike did his best to ignore him, trying to focus on the warm, borrowed blood currently flowing through his veins and the faint whoosh of the flickering torches as the customary draft blew through the tunnels. Naturally, Angelus started muttering softly to himself and put an end to Spike's last shred of patience.

"Angelus," Spike mumbled, his face pressed into the cold slab beneath him, while his eyes remained firmly closed, "if this is payback for earlier don't you think you're punishing yourself too?"

Angelus' pacing stopped, for which Spike was momentarily grateful, until the bastard spoke.

"What?"

"The pacing, the muttering, the fidgeting," Spike explained. "I couldn't sleep before, but after the day and night we've had, I really could use a good kip right now. I'd think you'd be the same. So why aren't you under that blanket of yours dreaming of screaming virgins and gentlemen with their hearts ripped out?"

"I'm wondering if the Master is going to tell us what he's up to tomorrow or not. I'm starting to think maybe we should have just left tonight," Angelus explained, his voice gradually lowering so it seemed he was thinking aloud rather than actually answering Spike.

Spike sighed. Still refusing to give up on the promise of sleep, he kept his eyes closed and remained motionless as he answered.

"Well, that's good to know, but probably a thought you should have considered earlier, such as when we were hacking away at a rock wall. I believe I mentioned something along the lines of leaving then, but you wanted to stick around to find out what the git was up to. You know it's only going to nag at you until you find out, so there's really no point questioning your decision now, is there? We're back here. All we have to do is sleep and when we wake up, we go see the Master and he tells us what's going on."

Another long pause before Angelus answered. His tone sounded thoughtful and surprised.

"You make a fair point. You're—making sense?"

"Look, mate, I honestly couldn't give a toss either way what we do, but I'm just too tired right now to pick a fight or throw this sudden doubt in your face. So what do you say you lie down and catch a few winks before we suss out Batface's scheme tomorrow, eh? Tell you what, I'll even keep my trap shut while you boys measure up. No sarcastic commentary, no jokes, no throwing your little competition in each other's faces. Sound good?"

"You expect me to believe that?" Angelus asked with a little snort.

Spike groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

"Just stop bloody pacing and let one of us catch some kip."

There was blessed silence for a full minute before he heard Angelus shuffling around again. When things went quiet, this time for much longer, Spike realized Angelus had finally lain down. He almost couldn't believe it, but decided not to question this unexpected good luck. Instead, he sighed contentedly and finally slipped into slumber.

* * *

><p>A scream tore Angelus from sleep. The sudden noise made him jump and he shot into a sitting position, whacking his head against the stone roof in the process. Stunned, he eased back onto his elbows and rubbed his aching head when another scream ripped through the chamber. At first, he wondered if the Master was having someone punished, but the noise was close by and a quick glance to his left revealed that it was Spike who was screaming.<p>

"Spike, what the hell—" Angelus exclaimed, when another scream tore from the young vamp's throat, drowning out Angelus' voice.

"Spike!" Angelus shouted, but got no response.

He swung his legs out sideways and onto the ground and leaned over, watching as Spike began thrashing about on the ledge, his arms waving madly and his legs kicking as though he were being attacked. His eyes were squeezed shut and it dawned on Angelus that he was still asleep.

"Spike!" Angelus called again, trying to wake him up, but it was no good.

If the noises Spike was making weren't waking him up, Angelus' shouting wasn't going to help. Angelus was at a complete loss as to what was happening. He'd never seen Spike act like this before. Another blood-curdling scream emerged from the terrified vamp and Angelus felt a chill run through him, which was an odd sensation for a vampire. He'd heard people scream like that before, usually because he was making them scream, but hearing that noise come from Spike, a vampire, in his sleep, was—to put it mildly—unsettling.

"Spike!" Angelus tried again then jerked his head around when the door swung inward suddenly.

Drusilla stood there, dressed in a flowing white nightdress. She looked ethereal, her dark hair spilling in waves down her shoulders. She spared a glance at Angelus, meeting his questioning face before her eyes found Spike. She glided over to him and tilted her head, watching him writhe about in apparent agony.

"Dru, what the hell is—?"

"Shh." She cut him off, a finger held to her lips before she leaned down to Spike and placed a hand firmly to his shoulder, pressing him down against the ledge as she perched on the edge.

Angelus watched, baffled, as she brought her other hand to Spike's right cheek, stroking it as she whispered softly to him in a soothing voice.

"Spike. Wake up my boy. Spike, open your eyes. Look at me. Spike."

Spike's screams died down and he whimpered, his eyes still shut tight as he trembled and jerked beneath her hold. She continued to whisper to him, urging him to look at her. His eyes shot open and he gasped loudly, making Angelus jump a little. Spike stared ahead blindly, his eyes wide and terrified as he continued to gasp as though struggling for air.

"Spike, look at me. Look in my eyes," Dru whispered, holding his face in both her hands and forcing him to look at her.

Slowly, Spike focused on her and she smiled. Holding two fingers up between them she waved them back and forth until his eyes followed their movement and then directed them toward her own.

"Look in my eyes, sweet Prince. See me. Be in me."

Angelus watched, fascinated, as Dru lulled Spike. He watched the young vamp's eyes glaze over as they stared into hers. His body gradually ceased its trembling and he became completely still, the rise and fall of his chest halting so that he wasn't even breathing any longer. Dru kept her eyes locked with his, never once blinking. They stared at each other in silence.

Angelus couldn't tear his eyes off them. A million questions ran through his mind but he could barely process any of them. He had seen Dru do this before. Thrall was one of her talents, and while most vampires learned how to entice humans to them, as he often did with charm and a dangerous allure, she could go much further, completely taking them over. Dru made them see things, anything she wanted. She could even turn them into willing slaves, overriding their survival instincts and making them submit to her without a struggle. He had never seen her use her talents on another vampire, however, let alone Spike.

After a time, she smiled and pulled Spike closer to her, holding his head against her chest as she began to sway, rocking him gently. Spike's arms came up and wrapped themselves around her waist as she continued to rock him like a baby. She turned her head to see Angelus watching them and smiled reassuringly.

"It's all right now. Little nasties got into my boy's head and made him hurt. They were searching for the spark, but it's not time yet. Not nearly time."

"Dru, what…?" Angelus didn't even know where to begin seeking an explanation.

"Shh," she replied. "It's fine now. Everything is darkness and silence again. My Dark Knight," she cooed, stroking Spike's hair and lowering her head down to him, letting her eyes drift closed, a secret smile playing across her mouth.

Angelus leaned back against the cold stone wall and observed them. His suspicions about Spike were back in full force again, momentarily overcoming any curiosity about the Master's plans for them. He wondered if this was the first time Dru had done this to Spike. She seemed perfectly calm, knowing what needed to be done. The lack of a minion at their door suggested that the others either hadn't heard Spike or hadn't cared. Dru must have sensed something was wrong.

_But what was it? What was wrong with him? What could have frightened him—hurt him that much? How long has she been—?_

Angelus broke off that train of thought. He made a note to keep a closer eye on Spike from now on.

* * *

><p>Spike did his best to avoid meeting his grandsire's eyes on their way to an audience with the Master. Angelus had been watching him since Dru had left their chamber earlier. Spike wasn't sure what had happened. He'd found himself wrapped in her embrace as she gently rocked him, but couldn't remember how or why they were like that. When he'd opened his mouth to ask, Dru had pressed a hand to his lips, silencing him. She gave him a knowing grin and told him to rest. Her eyes had flicked to Angelus and she grinned again before telling them goodnight and floating out of the chamber, leaving the door open in her wake. Angelus had been eying him warily ever since, but Spike preferred not to ask him why.<p>

The women were already seated next to the Master when Spike and Angelus arrived. Dru waved to him and Spike gave her a curt nod before he faced the Master. Angelus took his place one step ahead of Spike, finally focusing on the Master instead of his grandchilde. The Master brought his hands together in front of him, his elbows resting on the arms of his hideous throne.

"I suppose you want to know what I have planned?" he asked, his attention on Angelus.

Angelus merely nodded. The Master sighed then gestured for a female minion to approach. She had a book in her hands, and much like Andrei had acted with the box containing Spike's ring, she knelt before the Master offering the book to him with her head bowed. The book itself was worn looking and Spike could smell the leather covering from where he stood. It had no title that he could see, but some sort of symbol was etched into the cover. Spike couldn't see it clearly enough to identify it. The Master reverently took the book and the minion went back to her corner.

"This," the Master began as he opened the book, "is something I have spent years searching for. It's an old text that tells one everything one needs to know about opening the gateway to what lies beneath." The Master stopped on a certain page and stroked it delicately, his eyes glowing as he grinned down at it.

"What lies beneath?" Angelus questioned.

"Evil," the Master answered, his red eyes zeroing in on Angelus. "The greatest evil ever known, the first undiluted evil."

"So you're talking about hell," Angelus stated, his eyes flicking to the book then back to the Master.

"In a manner of speaking," the Master answered, his eyes returning to the page in front of him. "Many dimensions could be called Hell. It's not something that can be defined. But if this gateway were opened, yes, it would be like Hell. All the demons of the earth, the oldest and most feared creations ever to spring from that original source of evil, would spill forth and reign terror, bloodshed, and destruction like no apocalypse ever before prophesied."

"And you want to open this gateway," Angelus said, his eyes sparkling. "Now that's a plan I could fall in line with."

"I had a feeling you would, but it's not that simple."

Angelus' face fell and he frowned. "What do you mean?"

Spike rolled his eyes. If it were easy to open up Hell, they'd already be burning in it. Obviously the chances of opening this gateway were minimal at best, and that was without taking into account the Chosen Ones fighting on the side of good. When you brought the Slayer into account it was no wonder the Master was happy to have Spike around. The old vampire probably decided Spike's track record with Slayers would come in handy on this venture.

"Aside from the intricate ritual involved, first we need to find the Gateway, otherwise known as the Hellmouth. There's no point learning how to open something if you don't know where it is. I heard a rumor that there's one here in St. Petersburg, buried beneath the city."

"Which explains why you've burrowed your way down here and why you're enlarging the tunnels."

The Master nodded. "I'm close. I've had them working night and day to break through to the cavern that lies beyond that wall. The Hellmouth will be there. As soon as we've uncovered it, I intend to open it and bring unending chaos to this miserable world."

Spike glanced back and forth between Angelus and the Master. They were both grinning gleefully at the prospect of Hell on Earth. Spike wasn't so sure he liked this idea. What benefit was there in opening up Hell? If you believed in that sort of thing, they were all destined to end up there anyway once they dusted, being the monsters they were. What was the rush? He didn't fancy burning in eternal hellfire and suffering unimaginable tortures just because the two dolts before him were a sadistic pair of idiots, blind to the fact that they were living in this world.

Spike refrained from mentioning this to his elders. They were caught up in the Master's vision and he knew better than to draw attention to himself right now, particularly if it was only to put a dampener on their plans. Maybe later he could suggest it to the others in passing conversation. Spike could drop a few hints asking how they would feed if the humans were burnt to a crisp and nudge them away from the whole idea that way. It was a slim hope, but he preferred that thought to defying the Master's wishes when Angelus was so obviously on board with his plan.

"How much longer until you break through?" Angelus asked, eagerly.

"A few days at the most. I have my followers working day and night, as you experienced yourself."

Angelus narrowed his eyes at the Master, but it didn't wipe the smile off his face.

"So we wait a few days and once we gain access to the chamber we work on the ritual," Angelus said, folding his arms and standing tall.

"Unless you want to assist in the excavation," the Master suggested, leaning back into his throne again, the book resting casually on his lap, though he kept one possessive hand over it. "You put a decent dent in the wall when you both worked on it."

Spike quickly looked at Angelus. He didn't fancy any more time digging himself into exhaustion and he really disliked the idea of working in close quarters with Angelus for so long. With weapons in hand, they were guaranteed to end up trying to kill each other. He was relieved when Angelus smirked and shook his head.

"I don't think so. True enough, we're stronger than your followers but I'm no lackey. I can wait. If there's one thing I've learned over the years it's that patience pays off. Makes the victory that much sweeter after all the anticipation."

_And the bastard means every damn word too_, Spike thought.

"Suit yourself," the Master said, sighing. "We'll wait. In the meantime, make yourself useful. Those workers could use a good feed to stay strong. Go with Dimitri and his group. You can control the food run. Bring back some tasty ones. We need enough to keep them and ourselves fed until the tunnel is complete, and I don't want to waste time hunting when we can store food here. I have perfectly good cells going to waste."

_A food run_, Spike thought, _isn't that just bloody brilliant?_

* * *

><p>It took three days to break through to the hidden chamber. Angelus, Spike, Darla and Dru had spent that time keeping the Master happy, bringing him prisoners and listening to his speeches about bringing destruction to the Earth and wiping out the vermin plaguing its surface. Vermin that were food for vampires: vampires that would starve without them, but who was Spike to point out the flaw in the big man's plan?<p>

When the news came that they were about to break through, the Master left the main chamber for the first time since they'd arrived. The five Aurelians stood behind the vampires hammering at the wall, the stone cracking, crumbling, and falling, a small hole forming before their eyes. The Master was getting more eager with each piece of the wall that crumbled away. When the hole was the size of a man's head, the Master ordered the vampires to stop working and stepped forward, intending to get his first look at his prize.

"At last," the Master said, moving forward, his thin lips spread around his fangs in a wide grin. "At last I shall benefit from all this planning, all this work."

He reached the wall, placed both hands against the cold stone surface and leaned his head towards the gap, looking in. Spike and the others waited, watching him. The Master remained motionless and the seconds ticked by. They exchanged curious glances with each other, their attention snapping back to the Clan leader when he moved away from the wall and his prize. He turned to face them, his smile gone and his usually grim expression in place. Angelus asked the question on all their lips.

"Well?"

The Master stood rigidly, his firm expression never fading.

"I can't see it," he answered simply.

Spike blinked. Things in the chamber had grown so quiet you could hear the dripping of distant sewer water, even without advanced hearing. Spike glanced sideways at Angelus who seemed to be weighing his words carefully and struggling to maintain a serious expression. Spike bet it wasn't easy for him to withhold some scathing remark. Eventually, after folding and unfolding his arms and placing his hands on his hips only to remove them several times, Angelus found his voice.

"Pardon?"

The Master grimaced. "I can't see it," he repeated, slowly.

"What do you mean? You said it would be in there. What's on the other side of that wall?" Angelus demanded, growing irritated.

Spike had to hold in a sigh. They'd spent all this time bending to the Master's wishes and hovering at his feet for nothing. He'd known staying here had been a bad idea from the start. They should have just left after his initiation to the Clan or better yet, never have come here at all.

"Open it up," the Master ordered his minions, ignoring Angelus' question.

"What's in there?" Angelus asked again.

The Master simply turned his back to face the working vampires as they enlarged the gap in the rock. Spike cast a sideways glance at Angelus. His grandsire was glaring at the Master's back, a muscle in his jaw ticking. The two vamps worked away at making the gap bigger, and the Aurelians could only watch as the room beyond was revealed to them. Eventually the exhausted minions moved aside. Angelus was the first to enter the newly exposed chamber. Spike and the others approached slowly. Casting a quick look about the room, Spike returned his gaze to his peeved off grandsire.

"Empty," Angelus said, spreading his arms out as he faced them again, glaring at old Batface. "We've been wasting our time for nothing. Nothing's here! There's not even treasure or ruins or—anything!"

"Things are not always as they appear, Angelus," the Master said cryptically, moving past the dark haired vamp and further into the room.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Angelus snapped.

"I'll have one of my followers do some digging, and have a few others conduct further research. It could be that the entrance has been buried over the years. For all we know, we could be standing on top of our goal right now," the Master said.

All eyes turned to the dusty floor beneath their feet and the ever present dripping sound in the distance echoed in their ears as they fell silent, contemplating that thought. A minute later, Angelus scoffed, breaking their reverie.

"'Possible.' Somehow I think the all powerful evil you described would have a more noticeable presence. Don't you think we'd feel it if the Hellmouth were underneath us?"

"In this rotten world, who's to say how sensitive we would be to a higher form of evil anymore? The world is in chaos, and living so long amongst humans may have weakened our senses. Consorting with vermin," the Master spat, disdainfully.

"I doubt you've done that much consorting," Angelus mumbled under his breath, but Spike was standing nearby and caught it. Aloud, Angelus continued to voice his displeasure. "And what if it really isn't here? What if you've spent your time in this rat hole for nothing, hmm? What then?"

"If that should be the case—there are other locations. I know of several supposed Hellmouths in America," the Master replied, placing his hands behind his back as he regarded them.

"Is that so?" Angelus asked, bitterly.

The Master stared back at his family members with his glowing red eyes, then turned and walked back through the gap in the wall.

"We need more prisoners. Our food stocks are running low. I have business to attend to. Make yourselves useful," he called back over his shoulder as he exited the chamber and disappeared through the tunnels, his minions following.

Spike and the others stared after him until a low growl caught their attention and they turned to see Angelus in another of his black moods, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle as he scowled and bared his teeth.

"Make yourselves useful," he muttered. "_He's_ the one who's been wasting everybody's time with this scheme. I've had it. I won't be his delivery boy any longer!"

"So what then? We leave?" Spike asked, hoping that finally they could go back to the old days of just the four of them touring the world above ground, far away from the stinking sewers and damp tunnels of a miserable, freezing city like St. Petersburg.

"We do. We leave tonight. He can go hungry waiting for us to return. I'm not going to be dragged halfway across the world in search of another rumor." Angelus continued his tirade.

Spike grinned, happily. It was about bloody time Angelus saw sense. He rubbed his hands together, looking forward to a nice hotel room where he could share a bed with Dru again and put some much needed space between him and his miserable grandsire. They had been _this close_ to staking each other.

"Well all right then. Let's go. No point dilly-dallying now, is there? He expects his grub and the sooner we get out of this frost-bitten cesspool the better," Spike said, grabbing Drusilla around the waist and spinning for the gap in the wall, ready to lead their way to freedom.

"Wait just a minute!" Darla broke in.

Spike's spirits sank. He recognized that tone in her voice. The one that said '_I'm_ the one in charge here and _I _say what's going to happen.' Out of the four of them, Darla was the least likely to give up on her precious sire's grand plan. Spike looked at Angelus' pissed off expression as he folded his arms and glared at Darla. Spike sensed a fight coming on. He sighed and turned back to the scene; his arms wrapped around Dru's waist as he stood behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder. One slender arm snaked up and wrapped about his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.

"You would give up on the chance to bring about Hell on Earth so easily? What happened to your ambition?" Darla asked.

"I would rather put it to use on something that's not a wild goose chase," Angelus snapped. "You're a fool if you think he'll find what he's after. All he has is a tatty book and a few rumors that are as reliable as Chinese whispers. Don't you want to go back to a more comfortable life? Come see more of the world with me, Darla. You don't belong down here with him."

Angelus lowered his voice, reaching for Darla's hand. Darla snatched her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. Angelus' head whipped to the side and Spike saw red streaks forming on his cheek. Angelus wiped at his injured cheek and glared at Darla out of the corner of his eye. Darla stalked off into the tunnels.

"I belong at my Master's side and so do you," she said as she vanished around a bend in the tunnel.

Spike and Dru watched her leave. Raising his scarred eyebrow, Spike met Angelus' gaze.

"So now wha—?" Spike started.

"We leave tonight!" Angelus snapped, sweeping past them and setting off after his sire.

Spike and Dru remained in the chamber, now alone.

_Life as an Aurelian_, Spike thought with another sigh.


	19. Escape

**Escape**

_St. Petersburg 1901_

_January..._

"We should just take off," Spike whispered into Dru's ear. "We don't need them anyway. They have issues they have to work out; there's no reason for us to be held back waiting for them. We can get a head start, meet up with them later. C'mon, luv. Come with me now."

Spike tugged gently on his sire's hand, trying his best to convince her to leave with him before Batface's boys discovered them hovering in the exit tunnels. Drusilla just wagged a finger at him as though scolding a naughty child.

"Bad Spike. Daddy and Mummy will be cross if we leave. Not nice to split our happy family in two."

Spike just sighed. Dru _would_ be the one thing that held them together. The rest of them were a hairsbreadth away from tearing out each other's throats and only his Dark Princess could think that theirs was a happy family. When a grin begin to cross her lips, he turned to see Angelus' larger than normal bulk heading towards them through the narrow tunnel. Blinking in surprise, Spike realized the reason his grandsire's form appeared so much larger was because he had Darla slung across his shoulder.

"You two better be ready. I'm not waiting around any longer," Angelus said, brushing past them.

"_You're_ not waiting around?" Spike asked, but didn't sound quite as indignant as he might have if the sight of Darla bound and, Spike noted with amusement, gagged, wasn't so very satisfying.

_Let's hear you caterwaul for your precious sire now, bitch._

"Ooh," Dru said, clapping her gloved hands excitedly. "I love when Daddy plays this game."

Darla ceased wriggling in Angelus' arms long enough to glare at Dru, the gag muffling whatever oaths she was attempting to hurl at the dark vampiress. Spike grinned and pulled Dru against him as they followed Angelus out of the tunnels.

"Yeah, me too, ducks," he said, winking at Darla when she shot her icy glare in his direction.

They emerged from the tunnels into the blistering cold and wind, but even the unpleasant temperature did little to dampen three of the vampires' moods once they were above ground again. It was always a relief to get away from the claustrophobic, damp, and dreary burrow the Master and his minions had dug for themselves. Spike was looking forward to spending the night in a nice soft bed for once, with Dru for company instead of his bad tempered git of a grandsire.

"Come on, we need to get as far away as we can before the Master realizes we aren't coming back and sends his boys after us," Angelus said, adjusting Darla over his shoulder. "We'll take a train to Moscow first and decide where to go from there. I don't want to deal with Russian border security right now."

_You mean you don't want to deal with it while Darla's kicking up a fuss. Much easier gettin' around when she's on your side and not tryin' to make a run for it, _Spike thought as he nodded in agreement. He would keep his thoughts to himself for now. No need to piss the old man off until they could relax again.

The weather didn't help their journey. It started to snow not ten minutes after they'd begun walking the streets hoping to find a cab or a car they could take. They soldiered on, but soon the snowfall was turning into a blizzard and they had to retreat indoors. It would be insane to continue meandering around the dark city streets with no visibility, and just because they weren't as susceptible to the cold as humans, it didn't mean walking outside in a blizzard would be any more pleasant or less painful.

With no other option, Angelus led them to an alley next to a hotel where he handed Darla to Spike and Dru, warning them to keep hold of her while he checked them in. Better to avoid spilling unnecessary blood until they were far enough away that the Master couldn't track them.

Safely upstairs in their adjoining rooms, the vampires were content to sacrifice a full stomach for a warm, cozy bed, and Spike and Angelus were more than happy to have some distance from each other for a change. Sinking into the covers with a happy groan, Spike held his arms out for Dru to join him when a smashing sound came from the wall behind him. Dru cocked her head and Spike did likewise as they stared at the striped wallpaper which remained silent. Just as Spike was about to look away, muffled voices drifted through the wall, rising in volume. There was another smashing sound followed by a thud and then more voices. Spike snorted and smiled at Dru.

"Sounds like those two are working out their differences."

"Angelus will turn her head again. Our life is far more beautiful than the Master's games. He won't find what he seeks yet, and that way lies a prison of stone and torturous waiting. Waiting for her." A frown appeared on Drusilla's face again. "Always waiting for _her_."

"Pet?"

"Vile sun, burning all the darkness. It destroys and it bleeds and it burns all to ashes," Dru spat with venom.

"Hush, love," Spike said, pulling her onto the bed. "Don't dwell on that now. It's been far too long since we've been alone together. Be here with me now, Dru."

Drusilla twisted in his embrace and stroked one cheek tenderly, giving him a contended smile.

"My Spike. You will stay with me, won't you? My boy wants his Wicked Plum and nothing else."

Spike grabbed her hand with his and kissed the tips of her fingers softly, bumping her forehead with his own.

"Always, Dru. You don't have to worry, luv. I'm always with you, wherever we go."

Drusilla smiled wider and kissed him.

"You will come back to me," she said confidently.

Spike wasn't given the opportunity to wonder what she meant as she pushed him down on the bed again, kissing him to cut off any further questions. The noises from the other room continued as Angelus and Darla fought, but Spike and Dru paid them little heed. They were used to it. It felt good to be back in familiar surroundings, Spike thought, groaning as Dru nipped at his neck and slid down his body.

_Really good._

* * *

><p>Spike awoke to Dru staring down at him intently. He started at seeing her hovering above him when he'd just woken up. Slowly, he eased himself up onto his elbows and slid backwards until his back rested against the headboard. Drusilla rose from her perch and Spike noticed that she was fully dressed already.<p>

"Uh, Dru? What—?"

"Time to go," she whispered, drifting across the room and pulling back the heavy drapes to look out at the dark street.

The door to their room swung open and Angelus peered in.

"Get dressed. We're leaving."

He ducked back out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Spike ran a hand through his hair.

"Right then."

He dressed quickly, casting glances Dru's way but she just continued to look out of the window, waiting for him. When he was ready she turned and smiled, holding her arm out to him. He took her hand and side by side they exited the room. Angelus and Darla were waiting for them in the hallway and silently they turned and led the way downstairs. Spike saw that Darla was unbound and un-gagged. Though Angelus had apparently managed to convince her to leave with them, she was unusually silent and refused to look at any of them. Angelus ignored her as well, though he kept a firm grip on her hand at all times. Maybe she wasn't quite so willing to leave as the old man would like just yet, but she obviously preferred being free to being trussed up and hauled about like game.

Spike tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach. They would all be hungry, having not fed at all the night before. Since the Master would have realized by now that they had no intention of returning however, they had to get away from St. Petersburg before they could stop to feed, lest they encounter a fight and risk being captured or killed. Spike doubted that the Master would be patient enough to simply punish them and imprison them, at least as far as Angelus and Spike were concerned. He'd probably just kill them. Darla and Dru would probably be spared.

Spike squeezed Dru's hand, thinking about what she'd said. He would always find her, always come back to her. He would make certain they never had to worry about such a thing. Spike wouldn't allow himself to be separated from her in the first place.

They were just in sight of the train station when the attack came. A vicious snarl from behind them issued a warning; the band of four turned to see twenty of the Master's minions emerging from the darkness and glaring at them with yellow-eyed stares. Angelus sighed loudly. Spike positioned himself in front of Drusilla, a step behind Angelus. Just out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Darla's lips curl into a smile.

_Sadistic Bitch._

"Lads, do we really have to do this? I won't be at all pleased if you make us miss our train just to kick your arses three ways from Sunday," Angelus said in a bored tone.

One of their opponents stepped forward, his eyes gleaming, and grinned around his fangs. Spike recognized the vamp as one of the Master's favored pets, Andrei. No doubt the wanker was enjoying this. He must have leapt at the chance to go after Spike and Angelus. Clearly Andrei resented the unruly Aurelians who didn't appreciate what he must have seen as an honor, being a member of the Master's direct line.

"You really are far too conceited, Angelus. Do you really think you can escape the Master?"

Angelus chuckled and scanned the group of vampires, raising a hand to stroke his chin as if in serious thought.

"Let's see now, do I think I can take you dogs? Yes. Can I escape the Master?" Angelus shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. You're dedicated. I suppose I'll never really understand how he does that, but it doesn't matter. You should know better than to doubt me."

Andrei laughed and tipped his head at them.

"You know your orders," he said as the other vamps advanced, "kill Angelus and his boy. The women go to the Master."

"Oi!" Spike exclaimed.

Angelus snarled and Darla grabbed Dru's arm, pulling her back.

"Leave the boys to fight this one out, Drusilla. The winner will be the one who deserves our loyalty," she said, smirking at Angelus.

Angelus glared at her and turned back to their opponents. Spike frowned at Darla as she pulled Dru back then remembered what Andrei had said and scowled at the git.

"First," he said, raising a hand and making the vampires pause while Angelus turned to him in confusion. "I am _not_ his boy," Spike said.

Angelus rolled his eyes but Spike ignored him. Andrei smirked.

"Second, if you think there's even a tiny chance I'm lettin' you take Dru back to Batface you're far more stupid than I gave you credit for."

Andrei laughed. "Foolish vampire. I'll tear that ring from you before I dust you. You're not fit to wear it!" He snarled and flew at Spike and the fight began in earnest.

Spike lost sight of Angelus as they were both surrounded by the black-clad vampires. Spike punched the oncoming Andrei in the gut, forcing the vamp backwards, his charge having increased the impact of Spike's fist when it connected. Spike snarled and performed a perfect spinning kick, sending the vamps around him sprawling to the snow-covered ground. Something leapt on his back causing him to stumble. Spike heard jaws snapping shut close to his neck and growled, reaching behind him to grab the vamp's arm and toss him over his shoulder. He kicked the downed vamp viciously before turning his attention to the next group.

"Don't suppose you have a stake I could borrow, do you mate?" Spike shouted to Angelus as he punched another of his attackers in the face.

"Wouldn't you know, I forgot to pack one," Angelus called back.

Spike grunted when one of his opponents landed a powerful kick to his side. Spike grabbed the offending limb, twisting until it snapped and one of the bastards howled. He shoved the injured one away and blocked the next blur of fists and feet aimed his way.

"Bloody useless you are!" Spike shouted back with glee, dropping low and sweeping his foot out, knocking his attackers to the ground—again.

He loved a good fight. Of course, it would be better if he wasn't starving and cold, but a good rough and tumble should warm him up and get enough adrenaline going to mask the hunger. No wonder there were so many vampires tracking them. The Master's minions were bloody stupid.

"I guess we'll have to do it the hard way," Angelus' voice called from Spike's right.

Spike heard the unmistakable cry of a dying vamp as it exploded into dust and grinned. He grabbed the next arm that flew his way and yanked on it, hauling the vamp closer and grabbed the bloke's head, twisting savagely. The vamp turned to dust as his head came free and Spike wiped the dust from his hands, looking for his next target.

"Don't you mean the fun way?" he asked, winking at the vamp he found himself facing who was eyeing the pile of dust at Spike's feet with a gulp.

"I believe I do," Angelus said, and Spike heard another vamp turned to dust. "That's two for me, boy."

"Don't call me boy," Spike snapped, simultaneously twisting another vamp's head off. "And that makes us even, ponce."

The fight continued with both Angelus and Spike being swarmed by groups of attacking vampires, their numbers the only thing hindering them all from attacking at once. They continued to keep score but as the fight went on, became more interested in staying alive than playing with their foes. Using just brute strength to dust the Master's minions was wearing both the Aurelian males down, and while they had made a significant dent in their opponents' numbers, there were still too many to continue to take on by hand.

"Why don't you just bugger off already?" Spike asked, kicking another vampire in the head and sending him flying sideways, only to hastily block a punch from another of the pricks.

"Isn't this what you wanted? Backs against the wall with nothing but your fists and fangs?" Angelus called as he broke one of his opponent's legs and shoved him aside.

"I'll make an exception for places that are icier than Darla's personality," Spike retorted, grunting in pain when a pair of fangs sliced into his arm.

"Aye, enough of this. We could have been halfway to Moscow by now," Angelus said.

Spike managed to force another attacking vampire away from him and began backing up with Angelus. The black-clad minions also took a few steps back to assess their quarry. Eleven of them remained, including Andrei standing at the front, snarling. Spike and Angelus were both tired and panting in the frosty air after the exertion. Without warm blood in their systems, the fatigue was fast overtaking them and if they didn't put an end to this fight soon they wouldn't stand a chance of surviving.

"Give up, Angelus," Andrei snarled. "Even if, by some miracle, you manage to kill us all, we are not the only group out searching for you. By now, the Master has already sent reinforcements. He will never allow you to escape. It is impossible."

"I think it's time for a new trick I've been hoping to try out," Angelus said to Spike, slipping a hand inside one of his pockets and withdrawing it slowly.

Spike narrowed his eyes, unable to see what Angelus was holding. Andrei jerked his head and the group of minions snarled, rushing the two Aurelians again, prepared to take down their prey this time. Angelus held his hand out to Spike, who looked at it completely baffled.

"What the—"

"Just take it," Angelus snapped, turning to glare at Spike.

Spike swore under his breath and reached out to clasp Angelus' hand, feeling a small wooden handle with a piece of wire attached to it press into his palm. Grabbing hold of it, he glanced at his Grandsire who smirked at him, clutching the other handle and letting the long loop of wire dangle down between them, too thin to be noticed by the oncoming vampires.

"You and your parlor tricks," Spike muttered, facing forward again, steeling himself.

Five vampires dashed forward carelessly, and in their eagerness to tear their foes to shreds, leapt at Angelus and Spike. With those leaders in mid air and the remaining vamps rushing forward with too much momentum to stop in time, Spike and Angelus parted like the red sea, pulling the wire taught between them. The startled vampires barely registered the razor sharp, metal line before it sliced through their necks, dusting them instantly.

Once the dust had settled, Spike and Angelus surveyed the scene before they met each other's eyes. Spike laughed and Angelus joined in. Angelus kicked at the filthy snow that now held the remains of the Master's order. A strangled cry behind them caught their attention. Spike and Angelus turned to see Andrei, left alone, staring at the dark patch on the ground.

"Well, well, looks like we missed one," Spike said with a smirk.

"I suppose he thought he'd sit back and enjoy the view," Angelus said. "Not quite the show he was expecting, I believe."

"You will suffer for this," Andrei spat, finding his voice again. "The Master will not let this go unpunished. You will never find rest again until he has stripped the payment for this from your hides!"

"Well, we don't plan on visiting the Master any time soon, so unless he wants to put his grand plan for destroying the world on hold to come and seek us out, he'll have to take the debt out of someone else's hide. Yours for example, since you failed him so spectacularly," Angelus responded.

Spike smirked at Andrei and laughed at the glare he got in return. Spike gave Angelus a quick nod, and they both turned to their women and headed to the station again. Darla scowled and jerked away from Angelus when he attempted to take her arm, sticking her chin in the air and striding forward primly. Angelus growled and stalked after her, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her forcefully to his side, ignoring her as she beat at his chest and tried to pull away. Spike placed an arm around Dru's waist and leaned into her as they followed the others, nuzzling her ear.

"My sweet boy, such a warrior you are," she said, cooing slightly as she petted his chest with one hand.

"I'll never see you put in danger, Dru. You're mine. The Master can just bugger off if he thinks he can take my Princess away."

"Oh, Spike, what a heart you have. Will it hurt, I wonder?"

Spike paused and brought Dru to a halt, spinning her to face him. He frowned, confused as he tried to read her eyes, but saw nothing there other than a childlike wonder and delight, as if they held a secret.

"Will what hurt, pet?" he asked.

Dru gave him a sad smile, placed her hand over his heart and studied it as if it were a puzzle she couldn't quite piece together.

"When it stops hiding," she said. "When the light finds it and won't let it go again. Even when the darkness tries to devour it, the light will be there, holding on. Will it hurt to have the sunshine so close?"

"Dru," Spike began, "what are you saying, sweet? I don't understand. The sun's not gonna—"

"Are you two going to keep prattling or can we leave now? Unless you want the Master to catch you?" Angelus shouted over at them from the station doors.

Spike glared at him. "Train's not in yet, just hold your bleedin' horses for a tick. Dru, luv—" he turned back around but Dru wasn't there.

Surprised he spun around until he caught sight of her off to his left. She was bending down to the snow. She picked some up in her gloved hand and rose, staring at it. Slowly she turned to Spike, fear in her eyes.

"It's all frozen, Spike. I made it cold and it hates me for it. Naughty girl. Must be punished. I don't want to go. Who'll look after Miss Edith if I do?"

"Drusilla, what are you doing?" Angelus roared.

Spike ignored him and watched his sire with growing confusion. She'd never acted like this before. She was trembling.

"Dru, pet, it's all right," he said, walking towards her.

"No!" she shouted, cutting him off and taking a step back. "No, I won't, won't do it anymore. I'll be good. Please don't make me leave. Don't make me. Nasty Powers want to take my toys away. It's not fair!" She stamped her foot petulantly and wailed. "It's not fair, it's not fair!"

"Spike, get her over here now!" Angelus ordered.

Spike held up both hands in a nonthreatening gesture, and tried to draw Drusilla's attention, speaking slowly and calmly. Sometimes she'd slip into her own hallucinations and Spike would have to calm her down, but he'd never seen her quite so distraught before.

"C'mon, pet. We have to go now. It isn't safe to stay here. No one's going to make you leave, not while I'm here. I promise, they won't take you back, but you have to come with us now, Dru."

Spike tried moving forward again and made it about five steps before she looked up at him again and stiffened.

"Oh," she said, and suddenly calmed.

Her unexpected stillness disturbed Spike and he paused mid step. She stared off into the distance and a resigned smile made its way across her lips.

"Time will come. All things happen for a reason." Her eyes met Spike's curiously. "Do you suppose I'll see them again? Everyone that Daddy took? I should like to join them for supper. I was too late when Daddy laid them out. Spike—"

Spike was aware of Angelus shouting at them, but he wasn't paying attention. Drusilla had captivated him. He'd never seen her like this before. What she was saying made no sense whatsoever, but the way she was looking at him, so thoughtfully, was probably the most lucid he'd seen her in all their time together.

"From beneath—" she started when something whizzed past Spike and hit Drusilla, pushing her backwards a step.

Drusilla glanced down and Spike felt his mouth go dry, his eyes widening as he saw the wooden shaft sticking out of her chest. She met his gaze again as the blackness spread across her face and in the next instant she exploded into dust.

"Dru!" Spike roared, as the dust floated to the ground.

Spike released a strangled cry at the site of his sire's remains in the snow and whirled around to see the cause. A much smaller group of the Master's minions had arrived, and two of them had crossbows, obviously not wanting to take chances without numbers on their side. Andrei was rushing to meet them eagerly. He turned and grinned at Spike.

"Spike!" Angelus shouted, and his voice sounded much closer now.

Spike just stared at the minions. A small vibration seemed to tremble up Spike's hand and arm, moving right through his body and he felt a chill go through his bones. He had a brief moment of confusion, wondering why he'd suddenly be noticing the cold when something inside him seemed to shatter. His demon howled and Spike crashed to his knees, pain and anguish tearing through him. He gasped for air he didn't need, his hands gripping the frozen ground, cutting his skin.

Through blurry eyes he saw the figures with crossbows take aim. He blinked in an attempt to clear his vision but a wall was starting to crumble within him. Something he hadn't known was there was falling to pieces and images flooded into his head, as well as something else—something that was strangely foreign yet also familiar. Spike cried out in pain again. He felt something grab him under the arms and tug, saw a crossbow bolt bury itself in the ground in front of him as he was dragged backwards. He heard a voice but had no clue what it was saying to him. More images and voices began pounding through his skull and it all started to bleed together until everything went black.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This story has been nominated at the Sunnydale Memorial Fanfiction Awards Round 27 for Best Author, Best Angst, Best Characterization, Best Drama and Best Unfinished. Thank you!


	20. Discovery

**Discovery**

_Prague 1902_

_February..._

He should be taking in the sights. He should be walking through the streets, drunk after a good kill with _her _by his side, admiring the buildings and comparing them to other parts of the world they'd visited. With more opportunities and more time to tour the Earth than any human, and with the chance to do so repeatedly as the world around him changed with the passage of time, Spike should have been enjoying his first trip to Prague. Instead he was alone, in pain, and utterly lost.

He watched the rats run around the little alleyway in which he was resting. He was becoming far too used to their company, spending much too long sleeping in abandoned buildings or tunnels with the rodents. Still, at least he hadn't resorted to eating the buggers…yet. Spike turned his attention to the entrance of the alley, casting those thoughts aside. He'd made it what—a year now? ...Had it really been an entire year?

_Should have been dusted in the first few months. You've been warring with yourself over this every day. How much longer are you gonna crawl around Europe, slinking into the next little hole you can find until you slip up or wear out your welcome? You're pathetic, that's what you are, Willie-boy…Spike…vampire._

It was happening again. The alley was changing, contorting, reforming as an alley in London. A crow flew overhead, its harsh cry echoing into the night. Someone was approaching; a figure in shadow, a man. The stranger's cane tapped against the cobbled streets with each step. He stopped a few feet away from where Spike sat with his back to the wall. A low growl echoed around them. Spike started when the creature flung itself at the stranger, knocking him to the ground and letting out a savage roar. The cane flew out of the man's grip as he yelled in fright and clattered to the ground in front of Spike, rolling from side to side a little before settling.

Blood. The smell of it hit Spike's nostrils and flooded down his throat, causing his stomach to churn and rumble at the same time. He could taste the metallic liquid in his mouth and it made his fangs itch. Spike watched as the man's arms flailed about, uselessly beating at his attacker. His screams went on and on. The beast on top of him raised its head. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed out of the darkness, mocking Spike. Spike looked away, focusing on the cane in front of him. He heard a familiar chuckle and the man's screams intensified. Spike clapped his hands over his ears to drown out the sound but it was of little benefit.

_Can't block out sounds inside your own head, mate._

Spike stared at the ground, counting to himself, waiting to see how long it would last this time. He became aware of footsteps close by and a rustling sound. A woman's blue skirt appeared next to the cane. The material rustled as she bent down. Spike kept his eyes glued to the cane. A pale, delicate hand reached out and picked up the item.

"My, my. Is this what's become of poor William? The grand hero, the secret Demon Hunter, the youngest of the feared Aurelians?" the woman asked.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and continued to count. He could still hear her as she paced in front of him, tapping the cane on the ground as she continued to talk.

"So much potential, wasted. Now look at you. Hiding away in an alley with only your dirty little secrets for company. Ah, but the bloodlust is rising again, isn't it? The hunger. Time to feed, time to eat—to kill. Have been trying not to do that lately, haven't you? Poor lost little lamb, not as easy as one thinks; to stop before the well runs dry. A man dying of thirst in the desert will easily drown himself if given the opportunity."

She stopped moving. Spike willed himself to keep his eyes closed, but the feeling of her gaze on him was a compulsion he couldn't resist. Grimacing, he opened his eyes and raised his head. Anne smiled at him, twirling the cane in her hand.

"Shouldn't try to ignore me, you know. It's not nice. A mother might get the wrong idea. She might think you don't love her anymore. You could have made me so proud, William."

Spike swallowed hard and fought back the urge to speak to her. He was slipping far enough as it was without letting insanity take him completely. Not that he knew why he was bothering to fight it.

"Because that would be a sorry end for such a prodigy," Anne said. There was a sound of bones crunching as she assumed her vampire face and grinned at him around her fangs. "Such a beautiful animal you are. Could have made me proud. It's the least you could have done after taking the opportunity away from me, eh son? Didn't give your darling mum a chance even to taste a victim's blood before you dusted her."

Spike bent his head again and drew in a deep breath which he held. The cane was pointed at his chest an inch or two away from actually touching him.

"It's in there you see," she said, holding the cane over his heart. "The thing that won't let you rest. It was supposed to die. Disobedient child. Now you have to wait for the light."

_The light? In there…Dru…_

Spike jerked his head up, the question he tried to quell rising to his lips anyway, but Anne was gone. He was alone. He was alone in an alley in Prague. Spike growled and rubbed at his eyes. They were lasting too long now. They were too vivid. He couldn't hold on much longer.

_Is this what it was like, Dru?_

Voices again, only not in his head this time. Spike turned his gaze to the mouth of the alley. A couple passed by, arm in arm. They didn't so much as glance at the alley as they chatted on. Spike's nostrils flared and he closed his eyes again as he listened to their heartbeats. He released a low growl and used the wall to support him as he pulled himself to his feet. He wobbled a bit before he gained his balance. He let the demon out and stumbled out of the alley, silently following the couple.

* * *

><p>He tried so hard. He even let the girl go. She screamed, and begged, and pleaded, and he let her run. He debated breaking the man's neck first. Quick, painless, but he'd fooled himself again. He'd told himself he could do it this time. There was plenty more where this one came from—no need to take a full meal in one go. He almost gagged again when it started flowing down his throat. It felt like that all the time now. That image—a broken body on a desk, another on the floor, blood pooling around it—but oh how it calmed the ache inside him when he drank.<p>

It got easier after the initial taste—started to feel good again—familiar. He needed it. He couldn't fight his own nature. It felt like an age since the last time. He was so lost in the blessed sensation of feeding that he didn't notice that the man was failing. He pulled away and realized what he'd done as the body hung there in his arms, limp. He let the demon fall away and gritted his teeth, cursed, then let his victim fall to the ground. Felt bad about that too. Couldn't even leave the empty shell behind without it haunting him; it wasn't decent.

_And since when do you give a fuck about decent?_

…

_Since when do you not?_

Spike fled. He ran until he found himself in a cemetery. Surrounded by the dead—it was fitting. He found an empty crypt where he could hide and wait for another day to pass. Yet another restless day would go by, trying to understand what he was feeling—and what he wasn't and why that even bothered him. Sometimes he wondered what he was. He wasn't like other vampires, he knew that now. Not from what Angelus had told him about their breed. There was something inside him—something that shouldn't be there, and it was making him crazy. He longed for the peace again.

_No more peaceful place, not with her gone. No walls up to keep whatever's inside you locked up._

Spike chuckled to himself as he lay down, preparing for sleep that wouldn't come.

_Will it hurt, luv? Yeah. Hurts like hell, and it's only just starting._

* * *

><p>She traced the engraved letters on the headstone with bare fingers, having removed her gloves. Her skin protested as it brushed against the icy stone, sending a shiver up her arm, but she ignored it.<p>

_Goodbye, mama. I'll visit again soon._

She'd lost track of the time again. Her father wouldn't be pleased if he noticed her absence once more. He had no complaints about her wishing to visit her mother's grave, although he had expressed a concern that she was spending too much time in the cemetery lately and ignoring life. Staying out after sunset was dangerous too, especially with all the disappearances lately, and it was certainly no place for a child, so she understood why he worried. She couldn't help it though. Despite what everyone told her, she only seemed to miss her mother more with each passing day.

Shivering a little, she pulled her gloves back on and began making her way out of the cemetery, weaving in and out of the headstones, not even looking where she was going. She'd memorized the path. She was so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't hear the stranger approach until he was only a few feet away. His sudden appearance made her jump. She squeaked and pulled her coat tighter around her.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know anyone else was here. Excuse me," she said, bowing her head a little and attempting to turn and walk around him.

The stranger moved into her path again and she stopped, looking up at him. He was staring down at her and it made her uncomfortable. Nervous, she took a step back. The stranger growled at her and she felt her heart start to pound in her chest. A man shouldn't sound like that. He took a few steps forward and growled again. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she panicked. He took a step closer; she knew she should run but found her legs frozen to the spot.

As he took another step she noticed his face didn't look right. His forehead was furrowed in an unnatural way, his teeth looked more like fangs, and his eyes…his eyes were a piercing yellow that locked with hers as the lips around those lethal fangs twisted into a smirk. The hideous sight of the creature finally broke through her paralysis and she turned and fled.

She could hear him following, growling all the while. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the cold air making her lungs burn, but she refused to slow down, terrified to look behind her and see how close he actually was. Tears began to blur her vision as she weaved through the cemetery in terror, trying desperately to put distance between herself and her pursuer. She cried out when her foot caught on something and she tumbled to the ground.

Pain shot through her knees and elbows where she'd hit the ground. She groaned in pain as she raised herself up on her hands and knees, and she grimaced. Still terrified of the thing chasing her, she whipped her head around and saw—nothing but an empty cemetery. He'd vanished. Breathing hard, she scanned her surroundings but could find no trace of the monster. Had she imagined him? He'd seemed so real…she couldn't possibly have envisioned anything that horrible, could she?

Picking herself up off the ground, she winced as pain shot through her body again. Her dress was stained from where she'd fallen and her scraped knees and wrists stung badly. She pulled back the cloth of her tattered sleeve and pushed her torn glove up a fraction to see the cuts on her arm and the bits of dirt and grass that were stuck to the bleeding skin. She hissed as she let the material fall back into place and took a step forward.

Another growl came from behind her and her body froze up. The noise rumbled again, much closer now and trembling, she turned her head. He was standing directly behind her. He'd come upon her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to wonder where he'd come from as he lunged. She screamed as she was knocked back to the ground again with him on top of her. She beat at his chest, crying out for help, her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face. Rough hands grabbed her arms and pinned them to the ground and he bent to her neck. She felt his fangs brush her skin and she screamed again loudly.

He snarled and she knew she was about to die. The thought of what her death would do to her father so soon after losing her mother flashed through her mind and she whimpered.

But death didn't come. Neither did the pain she'd been expecting.

She heard a grunt and a snarl and then the heavy weight above her vanished. There was a snapping sound nearby and a man shouted in pain. She opened her eyes to find herself staring up at the darkened sky, bare tree branches looming over her like claws.

Snarls and growls ripped through the air and she sat up, eyes widening when she caught sight of her attacker struggling with another man. The new arrival had his back to her, his clothes torn and dirty, his light brown hair tied loosely at the back. Her attacker lunged at the newcomer who spun quickly and kicked the beast away into the solid trunk of a nearby tree. She watched helplessly as they fought, barely aware of an internal voice urging her to run, far too captivated by the sight in front of her.

"She's mine! I saw her first. You should know better than to try stealing another vampire's meal," her attacker said, wiping at a cut on his cheek.

The newcomer maintained his battle stance in front of her, moving to block the monster every time he tried to circle around to get to her, and it slowly dawned on her that the stranger was protecting her. Her mysterious protector then said something undecipherable to his opponent. He must be a foreigner, she decided.

When he made some sort of gesture at her attacker, it provoked the beast and it lunged again. She squeaked in fear as the stranger was tackled by the creature, but he somehow managed to spin himself and the monster around as he was thrown backwards, so that the creature hit the ground first with her savior on top.

A headstone obstructed her view of the pair but she could hear the scuffle continue. By the time she'd managed to gather her wits and rise to her feet again there was a strange cry of pain, and suddenly only her protector remained. He was kneeling on the ground facing away from her, a broken branch in his hand and his head bowed. Cautiously, she drew nearer, stopping when he raised his head and stiffened.

"Is h-h-he g-gone now? Th-th-thank you. Thank you, sir," she stuttered.

The man stood up, keeping his back to her. He dropped the branch but remained tense. She took another couple of tentative steps forward, but paused when she saw his fists clench and his body tremble.

"Are you h-hurt, sir? Did that th-thing hurt you? M-my father—" she began when suddenly he spun to face her.

A scream rose in her throat, but she was too paralyzed with shock and fear to utter it. His brow was ridged, his eyes golden and predatory and fixed on her.

Her savior was another one of those creatures. She couldn't believe it. He growled low and threateningly and she started to shake. He screwed his eyes shut, the growl growing in volume. She began backing away. His eyes shot open and he snarled.

"Leave!" he commanded.

His order shattered whatever foolhardy fascination that had held her rooted to the spot, clearing her mind enough for the message _Run!_ to finally get through. With a startled gasp she turned and fled, never once looking back. He didn't follow, but she didn't stop running until she reached home, where she fled for the safety of her room. She remained there for the night, refusing to speak to anyone about what had happened and causing them all great concern.

She spent a good many hours crying, both with relief that she was alive and out of fear of the monsters she now knew roamed out there. Later she would ponder the attack again, and the creature who had saved her and wonder why he'd done so. She didn't visit her mother's grave for almost two weeks after that incident, but when she did venture back, it was with more than a little curiosity about the beast that looked like a man.

* * *

><p>"Do you ever do anything the traditional way?" the man asked, with more than a hint of amusement.<p>

Spike gripped his hair so tightly it was painful, but it didn't distract him from the presence of his former comrade strolling about the crypt. The visitor scrutinized the small, dreary space with a critical eye, making conversation, as if this weren't some bizarre hallucination, his very presence impossible.

"Oh yes, forgive me, I almost forgot who I was talking to. Of course you don't." He chuckled and Spike began counting. "You are the one who abandoned the cushy job at the Council to become a Hunter, and the one who threw his life away to save people you later murdered in cold blood, although it would seem that wasn't entirely your idea, wouldn't it? Suppose I can't hold a grudge against you for that. Should give you the benefit of the doubt that you might have stayed away from us, eh, Willie-boy? Sorry, Spike. That's the frightful moniker you go by now, isn't it?"

Spike began rocking back and forth a little, forcing himself to concentrate on counting but it did nothing to drown out his latest tormentor.

"You'll have to give that up eventually, you know," the man remarked, "anyone would think you're mad if they were to see you at that."

Spike fought the urge to respond, a compulsion that was growing stronger with every passing second. A drawn out period of silence made him look up at last, hoping it was over, yet somehow knowing it wasn't. The brief hope died instantly when he saw Gray standing opposite him, looking down at him with pity.

"I've never been able to work you out you know, Willie—er, Spike. I thought I could get into your head but you really do baffle me at times. Your determination and foolhardy bravery was quite at odds with the chap who used to be a gutless poet. Oh, don't look at me like that; you know it's the truth."

Spike clamped his jaw shut, refusing to speak to the illusion. This was even more difficult than when his mother was the one haunting him.

"As a vampire you had Angelus truly stumped. Not a proper vampire at all, until your sire got inside your head, made all those nasty feelings disappear. Except the murderous bastard had it wrong, didn't he? It's not that you were incapable of any feeling. It's that you felt too much. Couldn't handle it, could you? Can't handle it now."

Gray hunkered down, meeting Spike's gaze at eye level. He cocked his head to the side, pondering the vampire. Spike stared back at him defeated, hoping the ordeal would be over soon.

"I have to commend you on leaving them behind. Not easy for you to do I imagine. I can see how staying with them might have been—distasteful, given what you're going through, but it might have been easier in the long run. They might have helped you forget."

Gray stood and resumed walking about the crypt, hands in his pockets. Spike followed him with his eyes, tracking his movements. The thought that this hallucination may never end, that he may have finally slipped into complete madness flitted through his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What has me really stumped," Gray said, getting back on track, "is that girl the other day. You were out hunting, and what do you find? A tasty little morsel just asking to be devoured by some nasty beast, not a few feet from your front door. Charming place by the way, though the décor could use some work, perhaps a woman's touch," Gray commented, smiling as he admired the mess of cobwebs clinging to the ceiling and walls. "Anyway, there she is, being chased by an idiot fledgling and instead of snatching his kill out from under him to feed your own starving self—you save her."

Gray turned around and stared at Spike, looking thoroughly puzzled. Spike looked away. He wasn't sure himself what had happened that day.

"For months you've been trying unsuccessfully to feed without killing. Trying to suppress all those feelings that keep sinking in—everything you've done, and everything you haven't. Those desires to be compassionate, _human_—something that should be beneath a creature like you—something, perhaps, that's above such a monster."

Gray gave Spike a knowing smirk before turning serious again, staring the vampire down.

"Even worse, is feeling _it_ inside you too; the demon that loves the hunt, the kill, and the violence. It's _happy_ they died to feed it, satisfied that the hunger's abated for a while. You really are a study in contrasts. Let's be honest, it would drive anyone barmy."

Spike didn't need to hear this. He dealt with it every day. There wasn't a second it wasn't on his mind. But that was the problem, wasn't it? These illusions all came from him, from his mind, from that thing inside him that made him different, and it wouldn't allow him to forget.

"You weren't able to do it, weren't able to stop yourself before drinking them dry," Gray continued, "but that child comes along and you resist it. You wanted to tear her throat out, savor every drop of her sweet, innocent blood, but you let her go. That was probably the hardest part, wasn't it? Watching her run, every instinct inside screaming at you to chase her down like the predator you are, her blood pumping, little heartbeat pounding in your head—and you didn't do it. That," Gray said, smiling at Spike and raising one eyebrow, "is what you might call progress. There may be hope for you yet. Although it didn't stop you tearing into the next available throat."

Spike got to his feet and turned his back on the image of Gray. The sun had set. It was time for him to feed. He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Gray behind. He didn't get far before he caught the scent of a human close by. Stalking through the cemetery he closed in on his prey, and halted in his tracks when he spotted her.

The girl's small form was huddled before the grave as she knelt and reached out to the cold stone. Spike couldn't believe what he was seeing. Could she really be this stupid? He inhaled sharply in frustration and got a good whiff of the girl's scent, faintly familiar. She could be no more than twelve, yet twice now he'd seen her here by herself. The hunger was gnawing at his stomach again as he stared at the easy meal no more than a few feet away.

"Well this is interesting," Gray said, appearing suddenly beside Spike. "I suppose we'll see if that self restraint was just a fluke after all," he said, with a wink.

Spike growled at him and Gray vanished with a smile. A gasp in front of him drew Spike's attention back to the girl. She was standing now, having spotted him, her frightened green eyes widening. Spike watched her take a step back then pause, hovering between running and staying put. He growled again warningly, urging her to run despite his fear that he wouldn't be able to resist the chase this time, wanting her to get away before he gave in to the demon's hunger. He frowned when she balled her gloved hands into determined fists and raised her chin defiantly, steeling herself. He was unprepared for her sudden courage, well aware of her racing pulse and the fear rolling off her in waves. He was even less prepared for her to speak to him.

"It's you," she said.

Spike wasn't fluent in Czech by any means, but he'd learned enough while living on the fringes of Prague to have a basic conversation. Not that he ever thought he'd be having a conversation with anyone who wasn't a figment of his imagination anytime soon. Living as a solitary vamp was one reason he decided to actually pay attention and learn the basics, just in case he found himself in a situation where it was necessary.

"You don't look," she paused and gestured at her face, "you look huma—"

Spike shifted into vamp face and snarled, showing his fangs. He was satisfied to see her jump. She blinked a few times but held her ground, trying to force her breathing under control.

"I wasn't wrong," she said then, "you are a monster, I mean, you—"

Spike tilted his head, studying her, wondering what she thought she was doing.

"You saved me. The other day. That other creature tried to kill me and you stopped him."

So she thought he was different because he hadn't tried to tear her throat out. It made sense, he supposed. After all, he was still confused about why he'd let her go, but she was wrong. He was a killer. He just hadn't killed _her_ for some reason. She was taking a huge risk. He should grab her now and drink from her, prove how lethal he was—and more than likely kill her.

She opened her mouth again to speak and Spike walked away, turning his back on her. If she wouldn't run then he'd leave.

After weaving around the weather-beaten tombstones and unlatching the rusty iron gate, he left the cemetery and was soon prowling the streets for his next meal. He slipped down a narrow, cobbled street when he realized he was being followed. He turned and caught sight of a flash of brown hair disappearing behind the alley wall as she ducked out of sight. Her curiosity would get her killed the stupid girl. Spike shook his head and carried on.

Just ahead, he spied a woman wearily picking her way home from work, unescorted. A maid perhaps.

His audience of one would soon learn what sort of creature he was. He stalked the woman for a while, before circling around in front of her and pulling her into a side alley. She hadn't time to scream before his hand clamped down on her mouth and he sank his fangs into her neck. She struggled and whimpered and he ignored her, fighting back that ever present urge to gag at the first taste of blood before it faded and the need to drain her took over. He took deep pulls of her blood, swallowing them down eagerly, his mind clouding over, registering nothing but the taste.

A strangled sound from the opening of the alley broke through his bloodlust.

Spike turned his gaze in that direction and saw the girl standing there, her mouth forming a disbelieving O, her eyes wide and focused on where his fangs were embedded in the woman's throat. The horror on her face struck him and Spike became aware of other things, such as the way the woman's attempts to push him away had weakened significantly. His victim's pulse was fading, she was losing consciousness. Spike knew he was taking too much, any more and she'd be dead. He pulled away, releasing her and watched her sink to the ground.

Spike panted hard as he stared at the woman's slumped form. He'd been about to kill her, just like the others. He hadn't even considered stopping this time, had given up the idea that he could, lost in his bloodlust. Something about seeing the girl had reminded him of where he was and what he was doing. He looked back at the child who was staring at the body. She swallowed and turned frightened, confused eyes towards him. She was alive because he'd resisted his urges once, now this woman at his feet was still alive because he'd pulled away.

Spike let the demon fade. His hunger abated, he began to think more clearly. He had no desire to finish the woman off, knowing she would become yet another ghost to haunt him afterwards.

All the memories resurfaced, all the killings, brutal and animalistic. All the nasty little things he'd done without once considering them, not with a wall blocking out these—emotions. He wiped at his chin and looked at the blood staining his fingers, took another look at the girl in her stunned state.

"Ooh, my pretty, look what you've done. My boy's forgotten what a beautiful killer he is. Innocence is calling to what makes him shine and hurt so good," a female voice said, hovering near the girl.

Spike staggered back a bit, staring as Drusilla appeared, bending down next to the girl, tracing a gloved hand around the child's long brown curls, bare inches away from touching them. His sire's image grinned at him.

"The killer and the poet, the villain and the hero, all wrapped up in one and blinded to their purpose. It's emerging. A long road to go, my Spike," Dru said, giving the girl another fond smile before rising to her full height and turning her mesmerizing eyes his way, "but you'll get there. There's hope for you yet."

Spike didn't wait to hear any more. He changed back into the demon and roared at the girl and she fell backwards with a frightened gasp. He ran past her, straight through his sire's image as it wavered and vanished, and disappeared into the night.


	21. Learning

**Learning**

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><p><strong>AN: **Just a reminder that I posted twice last week, in case you skipped the last chapter and get confused.

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><p><em>Prague 1902<em>

_February..._

Spike let the man go and watched him slip to the ground, still unconscious but alive. He'd even kept the wound small so as to lessen the blood loss and wrapped the man's tatty scarf around it. He felt the alcohol that had accompanied the drunk's blood flowing through his system. This one had been much easier. His victim had barely felt a thing since he'd been almost passed out by the time Spike came across him. With a final glance to make sure the man was sheltered and reasonably hidden from view, Spike left, heading back to the cemetery and his regular sleeping spot.

He'd killed once since the event with the girl a few weeks previously, and even then he hadn't meant to. He'd tackled his prey harder than he'd intended and the man's head had hit the ground hard, killing him instantly. Spike didn't want to dwell on what had changed. All he knew was that while he fed he was now more aware of his actions and the effect he was having on his victim. His days with Angelus had taught him how much blood was too much, and how much or how little pain he could inflict. Granted, his grandsire hadn't intended for Spike to put what he'd learned to use quite like this, but then none of them had known how different Spike was. Not even Spike himself had known.

He still couldn't explain why he was different. Maybe Drusilla had done something wrong, never having turned anyone before and not being stable herself. Or maybe he'd just been odd to begin with. Angelus had made a point that vampires didn't turn Hunters unless the vampire was sure about the Hunter's character. They didn't turn Slayers either. Was this why? Did this much of what they had been remain? Was that why Spike remembered so much of his life as Will; his feelings, thoughts, and beliefs?

Spike shook his head. No use thinking about it. He never had any answers. Dwelling on it only raised more questions. Besides, his ghosts did enough pondering for him. He still hadn't learned how to silence those voices and stop the visions of those he'd killed. His past haunted him every day, only granting him brief moments of respite. The temptation to speak to his hallucinations was still there, but he could control it a little better now. Feeding properly was probably helping. He could think much more clearly with a relatively full stomach than when he let himself half starve, barely able to stand on his feet, only giving in when the pain of the hunger grew too intense.

As he entered the cemetery, a scent reached his nose and he stopped. He inhaled again, deeply, and growled low in his throat. With a scowl in the direction of the source of the scent, Spike kept a wide berth from it, continuing to his crypt. He hadn't worked out yet whether the girl was suicidal or just incredibly stupid. He was still amazed she hadn't been picked off yet by any of the local demons. She'd become such a regular to that one grave that her scent lingered there, announcing to anything with a nose sharp enough that she'd be back, an easy meal if they ever caught her there after dark.

It wouldn't be so bad if she scarpered before night fell, but lately she'd been dallying longer, letting the sun set and remaining by the grave before her anxiety got the better of her and she left. Spike had the distinct impression she was waiting to catch a glimpse of him again. He'd made sure to stay far, far away from her. He was somewhat surprised her folks hadn't raised a mob to hunt him down after she'd seen him tear into that woman's throat, but maybe no one had believed her. Still, that wouldn't explain why she was sniffing around his territory every day. Spike was beginning to think that maybe he should leave Prague or at least move to another area, but scoffed when he realized he was thinking about relocating because of a child's curiosity.

Stalking into his crypt, Spike slammed the door closed behind him and flopped down into a corner, letting his head fall back against the cold stone wall as his eyes drifted shut.

"You're getting better at it," a gruff male voice said from a few feet away.

Spike snorted but didn't bother opening his eyes. He'd fall asleep eventually. What more could they have to say to him? His mind replayed the same thoughts daily. His ghosts wouldn't have any new revelations for him.

"No need to get pissy. I'm just commenting on your improvement lately. Know you don't need to hear it. Know you don't want to. Not one for profound conversation anyway. Just prefer to state the facts," Hobbes continued.

Spike ignored him. There was blessed silence for a while and Spike felt himself drifting in that half state between sleep and consciousness.

"If you're that worried about her, why not go out there and scare her off for good? You have control over yourself now. You could take a sip and send her running. A nip might be the final straw. Would be better for her, and you could leave too before a mob gathered. Set up somewhere new without worrying about it any longer."

The thought registered with Spike. It was one he'd considered when he learned she wasn't going to go away of her own volition. Too tired to make a decision, Spike finally fell asleep. Hobbes' presence had faded after his final suggestion as Spike's mind rested at last; a rest he could now achieve without exhausting himself from stress.

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><p>She thought she was being clever. Spike had made sure her presence had faded before leaving the crypt, thinking she'd gone home at last, but several minutes later he realized she'd decided to try and trick him. Instead of leaving, she'd exited the cemetery but remained in the area, waiting for him. Now she was following him at a distance.<p>

He'd picked her up almost immediately. She was keeping out of sight but he could feel her, hear her, and smell her. He wondered if she planned to simply watch him hunt, follow him back to where he hid during the day after he'd fed, or confront him. Spike decided he wasn't going to give her the chance, making up his mind there and then to put an end to this new fascination of hers before it could get any more out of hand.

He took a few quick turns through the darkened streets and circled back around until he was behind her. Keeping to the shadows, he was practically invisible as he crept up on her. She stopped in an alley looking up and down, realizing she'd lost him. He could sense the fear rolling off her as she began to jerk her head from side to side, faster, perhaps lost. The streets looked different at night and it would be easy for even a local to lose their bearings if they weren't used to seeing the city covered in shadows.

It was now or never. Spike would scare any curiosity she had about him out of her and hopefully keep her from ever roaming around alone at night in future. He growled low in his throat, shifted into game face and prepared to pounce when something else beat him to it.

Spike paused as a demon dropped from the rooftops right in front of the girl who screamed and fell backwards. It was small, thin, and dark grey, humanoid in appearance, and it crawled along the ground with awkward movements. It advanced on the girl who scrambled backwards, crying.

Spike was frozen in indecision. His instincts were caught between fending off the demon or letting it do his job for him and give the girl the good scare she needed. The demon paused for a second and the girl turned her back on it, scrambling to her feet, preparing to run. The moment she found her footing the demon rushed forward, grabbing her and bringing her back down to the ground. It slashed at her back with one clawed hand and she cried out in pain. The smell of her blood hit Spike's nose and without thinking, he darted into the alley and threw himself at the creature as it bent to lap at the blood.

Spike hit the creature hard and the pair rolled across the ground. The demon ended up on top of Spike and snarled at him, showing off its discolored pointed teeth as it tried to slash at him with its claws. Spike snarled back and grabbed the demon's wrists, holding it away from him. He found an opening and kicked the demon up and over his head where it crashed into the alley wall.

Spike rolled onto his stomach and got into a crouching position, watching his foe. The demon whimpered as it got back to its feet and turned towards Spike again. The two eyed each other for a moment until, with a growl, the demon retreated, turning and scaling the walls quickly. He watched it go then got to his feet with a sigh.

A moan behind him caught Spike's attention and he turned to see the girl still lying on her stomach, whimpering in pain. Her arms were outstretched as though she had been attempting to crawl away but lacked the strength. Spike frowned. He didn't think the creature had cut her that deeply.

He approached the girl slowly. Her blood called to him but Spike ignored it—with difficulty. Shaking off his demon, Spike bent down and brushed aside the girl's long brown locks to get a better look at her injured shoulder. She whimpered and he could smell her tears. Four jagged claw marks had torn through her clothing and raked across her skin from her shoulder to the middle of her back. The cuts weren't that deep, but blood continued to flow, staining her coat. Spike sniffed and detected something he couldn't quite name, some strange odor mingling with her blood.

The girl let out a small cry and Spike realized he was growling low in his throat as he stared at her injuries. He ceased the noise with effort and made a conscious decision not to breathe, an experience he was still uncomfortable with. He removed his coat, wrapped it around her and carefully picked her up. He didn't look at her as he headed back to the cemetery, but was aware of her frightened gaze fixed on him. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. To be blunt, he was winging it.

Scanning the cemetery for any sign of demons or vampires, he eventually made it to his crypt, entered, and set the girl down on her uninjured side on a tatty blanket in a far corner. He walked away to close the door. Hopefully anything that had smelled the girl's blood would think twice about invading his space. Spike stared at the closed door, very aware of the furiously pounding heartbeat and shaky breathing of his little guest behind him.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to try and mentally prepare himself for the odd situation in which he found himself, he tried to figure out just what the hell he was even doing. Finally, Spike turned and took a few steps towards the girl before stopping and hunkering down in front of her.

She flinched when he first approached but relaxed when it became clear that he would keep his distance. She stared at him for a few seconds as he stared back, never once blinking until she avoided his gaze and looked around the crypt instead. After a time, her eyes flicked back to him and she swallowed.

"What…what are you going to do with me?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Spike cocked his head. The truth was, he didn't know. He was as lost as she was right now. She apparently took the gesture as a sign that he didn't understand her. She tried again.

"You speak Czech, yes? At least, a little. Um, you…are you going to—" she trailed off and gestured to her neck, her bottom lip trembling.

Spike shook his head. He could have answered her, but he was busy focusing on ignoring the scent of her blood and the hunger inside him.

She sighed in what he assumed was momentary relief before her eyes became wary again. She shifted, or tried to anyway, attempting to raise herself up to a sitting position but her arm shook and she was forced to lie back down on her side, panting heavily. Spike's eyes followed every small movement, studying her. He had a suspicion the demon had done something to her. She shouldn't be so weak.

"If you aren't going to bite me then why bring me here? Why—you saved me twice now."

Her tone was almost accusatory. Her heartbeat had slowed though it was still faster than normal and her breathing was beginning to regulate again. The girl's courage was coming back gradually with every second he remained non-threatening.

"I did," Spike replied in Czech, slowly, gauging her reaction.

She frowned a little but said nothing more, waiting for him to continue—waiting for him to explain. He couldn't. He decided to change the subject instead.

"Can you move?"

She blinked then attempted to rise again but couldn't. She breathed heavily for a moment before attempting to move her legs. She succeeded in sluggishly bending her knees and curling her legs up behind her, but that was as much as she could manage, and the effort had exerted her.

"Barely. I feel—stiff. Numb."

Spike nodded. Paralysis more than likely. Special trick the demon used to keep its victims immobile while it ate them alive. It would probably wear off in a few hours…he hoped. Either way, the girl wasn't walking out of here herself and Spike didn't fancy keeping her here much longer. The whole situation was bizarre, not to mention dangerous, for both of them.

"I'll take you home, but you need to show me the way, understand?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and she seemed to be at a loss. Spike quirked an eyebrow and waited for a response.

"You—you want to help me get home?"

Spike nodded.

"You're trying to help me?"

"If it's your family you're worried about, it's okay. I won't go near them. I'll take you to your house and leave you outside. They can help you. I can't."

"I don't understand," she began, but Spike cut her off, rising to his feet.

He preferred to avoid questions he had no answers to and he didn't know how much longer he could sit here with the scent of her blood all around him.

"I'm going to pick you up again now, okay?"

He didn't know why he was asking her first, but the words had slipped out before he had time to think about them. She blinked again, looking surprised, and nodded. He picked her up effortlessly and headed for the door again.

Outside, he quickly scanned their surroundings for any sign of trouble before making his way amongst the headstones to the cemetery gates.

"Darina," she said, as he slipped through the gate awkwardly.

Spike paused and looked at her, puzzled.

"My name", she said quietly. "It's Darina."

"Oh," Spike answered, feeling uncomfortable. "Uh, which way?"

She stared up at him silently for a moment before pointing a finger in the direction he should take. Spike looked away and continued on, still feeling her eyes on him. After a few steps he sighed.

"Spike. My name is Spike."

"An unusual name, but you're an unusual—er—"

"Vampire," Spike filled in for her as she struggled to get the word out. "I'll agree with you there."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, Spike following Darina's gestures as to where they should go until they were staring at her house from the shadows on the opposite side of the road. Bright yellow light was streaming out of the windows and Spike could hear a number of anxious voices chattering away inside.

Darina's eyes were drooping and her breathing had changed again, to a raspy panting. She was in trouble and she needed help soon. Spike knew her awareness of her surroundings was fading. He shook her slightly to get her attention. With great effort she opened her eyes a little wider and turned her green gaze up to him. He glanced across at the house then back to her, quirking an eyebrow.

Darina turned her head slowly towards the house and nodded stiffly. Her eyelids started to droop again. Spike watched the house warily and made his way across to it. Outside the front door he paused, searched the street up and down, then placed her gently on the front step. Her eyes were fully closed now and she didn't even seem to notice that she'd been placed on the ground.

Rising, Spike knocked on the door and quietly slipped away, back into the shadows to watch. The door opened; there was an exclamation of shock, and soon a chorus of voices echoed into the night as the girl was carried inside and a doctor was called for. More light appeared in an upstairs window and people moved back and forth inside the room. Spike remained in his hiding spot for a few more minutes before leaving.

As he headed back towards the cemetery, he felt the heat that had seeped into his arms and chest from carrying Darina begin to drain away in the cold night air. He shivered without even noticing and increased his pace. Back at his crypt, he lay down wearily on the blanket in the corner. He was almost asleep before he realized her scent still clung to it, thick with the smell of her blood.

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><p>The next day, Spike couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting to the girl. Her scent still clung to his crypt and it was a relief when night had fallen and he could leave for a while. After he'd fed from a tramp he found huddled in a doorway, Spike found himself wandering towards Darina's house instead of back to the cemetery.<p>

He cursed his foolishness but decided to continue his journey to the girl's home in hopes that seeing her safe would put his mind at ease. He could then move on somewhere else, where memories of her wouldn't bother him and he would be in no danger when the hunt for whatever wild animal the authorities thought had attacked her took place.

Hiding in the same shadowy spot across the street where he'd stood the previous night, Spike observed the house for signs of activity. Lights were burning in all the downstairs windows and many people could be seen hurrying back and forth inside. Spike turned his attention to Darina's window and saw dim light coming from the room, but no sign of any shadowy figure moving within.

After spending quite some time standing there in the cold, Spike decided to try and get a closer look. Checking to make certain that the street was empty, Spike crossed over until he stood next to the wall beside the house. An iron gate blocked the entrance to the small garden behind the wall. Through the bars of the gate Spike could see a second window to Darina's room at the side of the house. A tree stood in the garden, its branches reaching quite close to the window.

Double checking that no one was watching, Spike jumped over the wall and landed with a soft thump in the garden. A door from the house rattled and Spike melted into the shadows as a maid stepped outside, a bucket in hand. She emptied the water from the bucket into the short grass with a splash and re-entered the house, bolting the door behind her.

When he was certain she wasn't coming back, Spike walked over to the tree and made short work of climbing it, settling onto the solid branch that led to Darina's window. Spike looked in and quickly backed away after spotting a man at the far side of the room sitting opposite him. When everything remained silent and no one rushed to the window, Spike took a more cautious glance into the room.

The man was indeed sitting opposite Spike, but he wasn't facing the window. Instead, he was looking down at the bed. The man's salt and pepper hair was mussed and sticking up in places as though he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His ashen face was lined with worry and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His mouth moved as he said something, and his lips turned up in a half hearted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as his hand reached out and clasped a small pale one resting above the blankets before him.

Spike turned his attention from the man to the tiny figure resting in a bed that seemed too large for her. Darina's eyes were closed, her skin was deathly pale and her curly hair was fanned around her head like a dark halo. If not for the barely perceptible rise and fall of the blankets, Spike would have thought her dead.

Spike ran a hand down his face wearily then ran it through his hair. Darina wouldn't last much longer. Whatever that demon had done to her wasn't just temporary, and it didn't look as though it would be getting better soon. Spike cursed himself for not acting sooner and frightening her away before the demon had the chance to attack her. His hesitation was the reason she was lying on that—death bed right now.

"True, but then I suppose that depends on your perspective."

Spike nearly fell out of the tree. He did lose his footing and had to grab hold of the branch as he slipped sideways and prayed no one inside had noticed movement or heard the branches creak and rustle as he struggled to right himself.

"How stealthy of you."

Spike made certain he was balanced on the branch again before glaring down at the shadowy figure below him. Gray raised a hand to salute him and smirked. Spike shot one final glance into the room at the sick girl before dropping smoothly down to the ground. He straightened, frowning when he couldn't spot his former friend any longer.

"Much better. For a minute there, I was worried you were losing your touch."

Spike whirled around to find Gray leaning against the wall of the small garden, hands in his pockets as he stared up at the cloudy sky. Spike relaxed and shook his head, marching back to the wall and leaping over it, ignoring Gray's amused glance.

"Where might you be off to then?" Gray asked, appearing on the other side of the wall the second Spike's feet touched the ground.

Spike swiped his hair out of his face and slipped across the street, back into the shadows and out of sight of the house. Once there, he marched purposefully back to his usual hunting ground. Gray's image appeared now and again every few paces just ahead of him, a curious look on his face. After a while Spike came to a halt next to one of the many darkened alleyways in the maze of a city, recognizing it as the one where Darina had been attacked. The one to which he'd led her in order to scare her away.

"Willie-boy," Gray's voice called behind him, "what are you up to?"

Spike entered the alley and stood there with his eyes closed. He could smell her blood still clinging to the spot where she'd been sprawled across the ground. He concentrated harder and finally picked it up; the strange odor mixed with her blood that had come from the demon's paralyzing venom. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and growled. There was a crunching noise as his face shifted, so when he opened his eyes his vision was much clearer in the dark and his sense of small became even sharper.

He caught it eventually…the scent of the demon, the trail leading up and around the building where he'd seen it disappear. It hadn't faded yet. He shouldn't have much trouble tracking it.

Spike's stomach clenched and he fought off a wave of dizziness. He was getting hungry again. He hadn't taken enough from the tramp earlier, knowing the man would need it more to withstand the cold, not having anyone to care for him. The thirst was beginning to gnaw at him and he swayed on his feet as his surroundings blurred a little.

"Oh dear. Looks like someone needs to find a bite to eat."

There was a sound similar to a whoosh of air, and Spike caught a flicker of movement next to him. He turned his head and was met with a pair of yellow eyes staring back at him threateningly.

"Poor boy's going to starve himself. You need to keep your strength up, William. You have places to be, people to kill."

Spike lurched backwards and Anne laughed, clasping her hands in front of her and grinning at him around her fangs.

"Or maybe you don't want to kill people." She glanced at the rooftop the demon had disappeared over. "Perhaps you have trickier prey in mind. I'm curious what it is you think you're doing. I suppose I shall have to accompany you to find out. I never did get to see my boy in action."

"Change," Spike demanded as his stomach clenched again. "Change back. Stop looking like her."

"My dear boy, that's no way to speak to your mother. I love you. I only want to be with you. I'm worried about you, William."

She pressed her hands to her chest, above her heart, and her face changed; the ridges, fangs and yellow eyes fading away.

"Stop it!" Spike shouted, closing his eyes. "Change! Not her, not her, not her," he chanted.

"Why ever not? What is it about those filthy men you slaughtered that makes them more comforting than me? Or perhaps you wish to see your other mother." Her tone became harsher, bitterness seeping in as her voice grew in volume.

"Not her, not her, not her," Spike whispered, continuing the mantra in an attempt to force his mind away from her image.

"That insane creature who stole you away from everything you were. The one who gave you the new life you despise so much. The whore that made you what you are yet you love her even now!"

Spike retreated from the vision, let his demon take over, opened his eyes and roared. Snarling, he stared at the empty street, the only sound the wind echoing between the alley walls and a cat that let out a frightened yowl somewhere nearby. He was breathing heavily, taking in big lungfuls of air he didn't need. His stomach growled and he clutched at it. His vision swam again and he shook his head to try and clear it.

When he regained focus he stumbled out of the alley and tried to calm himself enough to concentrate. Eventually, he picked up the faint sound of voices in the distance. Pushing everything that had just occurred to the back of his mind, Spike headed in that direction, determined to keep the hunger at bay before the madness took him over again.


	22. Failing

**Failing**

_Prague 1902_

_February..._

He hadn't stumbled upon anyone else out so late at night in the cold. He had however, found something else…a small nest of vampires who'd weaseled an invitation into someone's house on the outskirts of town and taken it over. The smell of blood and death that hung about the place once they'd settled in had led him there. The previous owners were long dead of course; their remains more than likely buried or disposed of nearby. The vamps had found themselves a meal for the night, having snatched a couple out walking whom they'd taken back to their lair.

What he'd done was risky and foolish, something he wouldn't even have attempted if not for the overwhelming need to regain control before he started hallucinating again. He'd do whatever he could to stop the visions from taking over his life now that he was finally learning to handle them. Unless he wanted to fall into madness, he had to feed regularly and stay strong. Seeing no other option, he'd opted for the last resort—he'd stolen the vampires' meal.

Spike examined the cut on his hand as he made his way back to the alley to find the demon's scent again. He'd wasted more time but the trail should still be there. He was tired, but the blood had energized him and his wounds would heal. He should be able to fight just fine by the time he located it.

One vampire taking on a nest of four was not what one would call ideal odds. He could very well have been killed or badly maimed by interfering. Still, he'd been hungry, and they weren't sharing. There'd been no trees around, so he'd known he'd have to go in unarmed, aside from his own fangs, and improvise once inside. Houses were full of wooden furniture, after all.

At least he'd had the element of surprise on his side. When he'd barged in on them, he'd kicked the door open so hard that it had slammed against the wall, the lock snapping clean off. They'd stood there, dumbstruck, just long enough for him to turn and grab the leg of a tiny table near the door and snap it off, providing him with a weapon. Two of them had come to their senses and charged him, the others had hung back to keep control of the man from whom they'd been about to feed.

Funny how easy staking your own kind could be. Other than when he'd had to fight the Master's boys with Angelus, Spike hadn't needed to kill vampires once he'd become one. Apparently everything he'd learned as a Hunter had stayed with him; how his enemy would move, what attacks they'd favor. Vampires usually went in for the bite first, meaning they'd try to pounce on you and knock you off balance with their weight. Dodging that move had allowed him to sink the stake into the back of one of the vamps fairly quickly, leaving him with just three to deal with.

If it failed to grab you, a vampire usually relied on its speed and agility to land a flurry of kicks and punches that would force you into a corner or, preferably, knock you on your arse, leaving you wide open to attack. That was where using the enemy's strength against him came in. Spike had dodged each attack and kept just out of reach, turning to avoid being backed into the other vampires or forced into a corner, so that his opponent had tired and grown frustrated. Vampires weren't known for patience. The more times he'd missed, the angrier the vamp had become, until he'd stopped thinking about avoiding the stake and focused more on landing a hit. That led to him being dusted rapidly after a failed punch.

The other two had been more careful. They'd tossed the man into a far corner from which he was unable to escape since the fight had blocked his only exit. The woman they'd caught lay still on the floor close to the man, blood covering her dress. Spike didn't have time to assess her injuries as he'd had to fight against the cautious yet furious pair.

He'd come close to staking one when it thought his attention was on its companion, but his hunger made him dizzy and sluggish after fighting the other two. That's when he'd received the cut on his hand, the other vampire slashing it with its fangs while he fended it off. They'd dragged him to the floor but he'd managed to roll out from under them before they could pin him down and had staked both in quick succession.

He was almost at the alley now. At least he didn't have company this time. His ghosts were giving him some peace, though who knew how long that would last. Hopefully he'd get this done quickly and be back in his crypt before sunrise. More determined the closer he got, Spike wiped his chin again, still able to feel the sticky traces of blood that wasn't his own drying into his skin.

The man had cowered in the corner, his eyes vacant as he stared at the dust covered floor. It had given Spike time to assess the situation. The woman was past saving. She wasn't dead yet, but he'd known from the weak flutters of her heart and the blood still dripping from the various bite marks on her body that it wouldn't be long. The vamps had taken their time; played with their food.

Spike had picked the man up and sunk his fangs in just as the man began to protest. He'd screamed. Spike had drunk, leaving the man with enough blood to still be conscious enough to wander home in a daze. After all, Spike wasn't intending to stick around once he'd taken care of…things. The almost drained woman had provided him with the rest of what he'd needed. No need to fret over those with no chance for survival.

There it was.

Spike stared up at the rooftop over which the demon had vanished. He'd have to climb up there to follow it, and it would be easier to remain unseen, not that many people were out at this time of night. He just hoped its lair would be accessible and that the trail wouldn't be too hard to follow. It couldn't be that far away surely? If it used paralysis it must take its time eating. Either that or it preferred its food alive while it ate.

Spike grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to this. Setting his jaw in determination, he started to climb.

* * *

><p>When he eventually tracked it down, he'd ended up in another cemetery, this one looking more decrepit and neglected than the one he was staying in. Food must have been scarce if it had come into the city. It appeared to be haunting the outskirts, not daring to venture further in, suggesting that it didn't normally take up residence in such a populated area.<p>

The demon had dragged its latest prey into the cemetery, but hadn't managed to haul its victim inside what looked oddly like a burrow near the base of a tree. The scent of blood filled the air and Spike was thankful he'd fed fully earlier. The demon tilted its head back and greedily swallowed a bloody mess of flesh. A small whimper came from the lump in front of it. Dinner was still alive.

Spike had seen enough. He prowled closer, pausing only when the demon stiffened, raised its head and inhaled deeply. There was a loud hissing sound and it spun to face the vampire, its claws scraping the ground and blood trickling from its open mouth.

"Hello, mate," Spike said, flexing his fists and running his tongue around one sharp fang as he prepared for the fight. "Sorry to interrupt but it seems I have unfinished business with you."

The demon glared at him and pounced. It was small and skinny but made up for its lack of strength by being agile and wary about its attacks. Spike heard his coat tear when the demon's claws tore into the fabric on its first lunge. He'd dodged, but it had come close. He'd need to be better prepared to avoid a slash to his face or other exposed skin.

Spike found himself standing next to the creature's victim. He saw a pair of brown eyes darting around in their sockets, the only part of the man that could move, before Spike was forced to turn his attention back to his opponent, who scurried forward again, standing upright this time as it took another swipe at him. Spike blocked and retaliated with a punch that missed as the creature ducked. It was a better fighter than he'd first given it credit for, kicking him in the gut in the next instant, sending him stumbling backwards.

Spike went on the defensive as the demon unleashed a series of rapid moves, clawing, gabbing and kicking at him. It always managed to leap away before he could pin it down. Losing patience, Spike growled and decided enough was enough. He had to find some way to start attacking or this thing would wear him out and get lucky with those claws.

Spike watched the demon leap away from the kick he aimed its way and dash to the right. Spike spun left with a roundhouse kick that the demon just managed to duck. Expecting it to dodge, Spike quickly hopped up in the air to avoid the sweeping leg of the demon that would have knocked him to the ground. This was it; a risky move, but the only way to get close enough.

In midair, Spike calculated his next move in seconds as he dropped back to earth. He was parallel with the ground, so instead of landing on his feet he was falling face first to the torn up soil. Just as he was about to hit the dirt, he rolled, grabbing hold of the demon by its wrists as it jumped on him, having intended to claw his back when he fell.

It let out a shriek of surprise as Spike rolled with it until he had it pinned under him, its legs kicking out madly and its teeth gnashing at his face. Spike grinned down at it, enjoying its struggles. It'd been a while since he'd hunted anything you could call a challenge. The fight with the vamps earlier had been a near suicidal brawl, but this was a _hunt_. He'd tracked his prey, fought it, and caught it. He'd almost forgotten the feeling it gave him; the rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction.

"Sorry, mate. You lose. Should have stayed out of the city."

Spike struggled to evade the demon's claws as it scrambled even more desperately to slash at him. Tilting his head, Spike wondered what the best way of killing it would be…he could bite it, but something told him the demon would taste disgusting, plus it brought him too close to those claws and teeth. As it happened, the demon sealed its fate when it managed to suddenly thrust its arm forwards with a final burst of strength.

Feeling the sting of his cheek being torn open, Spike jerked his head back with a hiss and shoved the demon's hand away from him violently. He heard a squelching sound and suddenly the body beneath him lay still. Wincing from the pain in his cheek, Spike lowered his arm to see what he'd done, only to discover the demon's razor sharp claws embedded in its face, two fingers having gouged out its eyes.

Spike let his game face fall away and cautiously released the demon. It didn't move. Satisfied that it was dead, Spike touched the cut on his cheek. His fingers came back bloody. At least he didn't feel any paralyzing effects…yet. He was guessing, based on what he remembered about certain breeds of demons, that the effects only lasted as long as the demon lived. Here's hoping the carcass in front of him was one of those.

A gasp nearby caught his attention. Spike glanced over to see the demon's victim panting heavily on the ground where he still lay, only now he was twitching. Spike stood and walked over, staring down at the man. A few more choked gasps escaped the man's lips as he cringed and writhed in pain. Blood was starting to pool across his stomach, his clothes having been torn open so the demon could feast on his flesh. A large chunk of skin had been peeled away and devoured by the time Spike had stepped in.

A new nagging sense started crying out for Spike's attention. The sun. The sun would rise before he could make it back to his own turf. He'd have to stay here. He scanned the cemetery quickly for a likely hiding place, choosing another rundown looking crypt in a far corner. He had time yet, but there was no use standing around. He was full, he was tired, and he needed time to heal and rest before heading back to familiar territory.

He was walking away when something tugged at his trouser leg. Glancing down, Spike saw a pale hand clenched in a death grip around the fabric. Spike's gaze flicked to the pleading face of the injured man, still cringing in agony.

"Please…"

More choking and gagging. Spike tilted his head and watched spittle fly from the man's mouth. His lips were blue and his skin ashen. Another desperate tug.

"Please…help m-me. Please."

The man was now lying half turned on his side, allowing blood to flow more freely from his stomach wound. It wouldn't take long to attract attention from some beastie or another, if it hadn't already. They were a short distance from any well populated spot. The man could bleed out before he'd make it to anyone that could help him.

Spike bent and removed the hand. He gave it a quick pat and the watery brown eyes staring back at him brightened. Spike stood and walked away. Behind him, a strangled cry turned to more gagging. The solid crypt door shut out the noise, leaving blessed silence in its wake. Time to rest again.

* * *

><p>It was almost peaceful walking back towards Darina's home. Spike walked with light, easy steps, un-haunted by ghosts or guilt. His cuts from the night previous had vanished and he wasn't yet suffering the thirst. He felt energized—restored. He didn't want to lose the feeling by questioning the reason behind it so he hadn't analyzed exactly what it was that had changed or when. All he knew was that something was different. He felt more in control and more himself than he had for a long time.<p>

He was even looking forward to leaving. There were no belongings waiting for him in the crypt he'd hidden in; no reason to return there, so as soon as he'd seen what he wanted to, he would leave Prague altogether for somewhere less—stifling. Somewhere that didn't harbor such bad memories of restless nights.

If he was smart, he would leave now anyway, forget about going to visit Darina, but he wanted to see her for some reason. He supposed he had her to thank for his current high spirits. If not for her, he would never have gone out hunting last night, never mind why he'd done it or why he felt responsible for what happened to her. It was her own damn fault for wandering about by herself.

As he drew closer to the house, his pace slowed. He still had to be careful not to be seen. As usual, he paused in the shadows across the street, looking over at the house, his eyes instantly finding the window of the girl's room. He frowned. Something wasn't right.

He could barely see the dim light that usually flickered from behind the drawn curtains. There was lots of movement both downstairs and upstairs, shadows moving back and forth from window to window. As Spike approached, heading for the small garden and the tree that would allow him a better view of the room, a sound began to emerge from the house; a low mournful tone.

_No._

Spike hopped over the wall and quickly climbed the tree, careful not to make a sound as he moved along the branch towards the window, only to find the curtains there drawn also, more shadows moving beyond them. Even if he couldn't see in, he might hear something with people so close to the window.

The keening from inside grew louder and Spike could make out sobbing noises as well as a low murmuring. He stared at the covered glass, unable to see the figure that had been lying in the bed whose breathing had been the only sign of life the last time he was here—unable to deny what the activity in the house had confirmed for him.

Spike slid backwards against the trunk of the tree, resting his back against it and rubbing a hand down his face. The feeling was gone now. There was no more exhilaration or satisfaction to keep him going…now there was only tiredness. He had to wonder—what was the point of it all? Or had there ever been a point?

Spike stayed sitting in the tree for almost an hour, staring at the window, listening to the faint murmurs and mournful sounds within. He was numb. He sat there, staring ahead, not thinking, not moving, just letting the time pass. Death. It's what his life was now. Nothing but death, and yet he'd go on—a moving corpse; immortal.

When a door opened and someone stepped into the garden below him, Spike decided it was time to move. He waited patiently for the shadowy figure to go back in the house before leaving. Despite his earlier intentions, once he'd fed, less out of hunger and more out of necessity, in no mood to be visited by spirits tonight, Spike returned to the crypt, shut the door behind him and lay down to wait for sleep to claim him.

* * *

><p>He'd heard them outside, singing, mourning, tramping through the grounds. He'd woken earlier than normal and spent the day listening to everything outside the crypt. When evening fell, Spike paced up and down the short space of the crypt, wondering if it would still be too early to attempt to go outside. Unable to stand the enclosed space any longer, Spike took a deep breath to calm himself and opened the crypt door as quietly as he was able.<p>

A few people remained, Spike could sense them immediately. They were out of sight of his hideaway however, and hadn't heard him emerge. Spike crept closer, staying to the shadows where possible. He spotted them then, a few feet away, their backs to him as they observed the dark mound of soil before them. Spike stiffened and moved back a step or two, his back meeting the rough bark of a tree. Feeling the solid object behind him, he leant against it and waited.

Muffled voices drifted over to him, but he could only hear every other word and soon stopped paying attention. Eventually they left, casting lingering glances back at the grave as they walked. Spike watched them go, staying where he was long after the rusty gate clanged shut behind them, adjusting to the silence and the dark.

He breathed in the scent of freshly disturbed earth and approached the mound of soil, a tiny hill amongst the grass and stones of the cemetery. His eyes turned towards the headstone bearing her mother's name. Together again. He stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets and nudged a loose clod of earth with his foot. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for really.

No tiny hand would emerge from the ground and scramble upwards. She wouldn't rise, a vampire, the way he had. Instead she'd stay there—buried. She'd lie beneath the cold earth and rot, the way corpses were meant to. If he hadn't wanted to leave Prague before…he certainly did now.

A sound caught his attention and he looked up. A shadow was moving to his right. Spike cocked his head and studied it. The figure stepped into the light and revealed itself as a vampire, a female. It paused when it noticed Spike. The two stared at each other for a moment. She growled then, loud enough for the sound to carry, a half threat. Clearly he was making her uneasy.

Spike shifted into game face and gave her a low growl in return. She stiffened visibly and took a step back and Spike smiled in satisfaction. She must be young. No use hanging around any longer though. Ignoring the vamp, Spike shook off his demon and stalked out of the cemetery, leaving her to her own devices. Maybe she was looking for a place to stay. If she was, she could have his crypt, not that she'd dare go in there once she sensed his presence around it. It would take a few days for the place to be recognizably vacant.

It was only as he walked through the streets of Prague, no longer attempting to hide or skulk in the shadows, that he began to wonder where he was headed. He wasn't even sure how he'd found his way to Prague in the first place. He supposed he'd end up somewhere the same way he'd gotten here; by aimlessly travelling until he decided to stop again. There was no telling where his so called family was now, not that he'd have sought them out anyway. The chances were slim they'd run into each other but Spike still hoped they were far, far away from wherever he'd find himself.

Alone, he didn't have to worry about anyone—about him letting anyone down or feeling responsible for them. Alone he didn't have to sacrifice anything. All he'd have to do was look out for himself. That much, he might just be able to handle.


	23. Captured

_Madrid 1943_

_March…_

The vampire watched the smoke from his cigarette as it swirled in the air. He took a long drag, the faint orange glow at the tip illuminating as the paper burned away, then fading again while he paused to exhale noisily. He glanced up and down the street and tapped one foot against the wall he was leaning against. Then he spat on the ground and wiped at his lower lip with his free hand before scratching his chin.

"You're disgusting, you know that?"

The vamp jumped and spun to look at Spike leaning casually against the wall next to him, having materialized from the shadows, unnoticed. Spike smirked. He was getting better at being stealthy. Good.

"Spike." The vamp's shoulders slumped and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if Spike's sudden appearance hadn't startled him at all. "Thought you weren't going to show. You're late."

He was hiding his accent better. The Scandinavian hadn't taken long to adjust to life in Madrid after getting out when the trouble started in his homeland. He'd proven himself useful in the demon world, making contacts quickly and establishing himself as a fast talking business man as far as the demon underground went.

Spike folded his arms, tapping his fingers against the well polished leather of his recently acquired coat.

"Not late at all, mate. You just think I was. Wanted to make sure you were alone."

"Spike. You don't trust me? I thought we were friends?"

"I don't do the friend thing, Mads."

"So I see," the vamp said, nodding his head at the red band on Spike's arm, a swastika emblazoned on it, the symbol that had become all too familiar in recent times. "I can't imagine that's earned you too many friends. Tends to clash with your English accent, don't you think?"

Spike glanced down at the Nazi symbol and shrugged. "Came with the coat."

"And where exactly did you get the coat? Attacking S.S. members is not a smart thing to do. Or are you fighting in this human war out of a sense of patriotism?" Mads asked, laughing.

"Not bloody likely. You know where I got it. Speaking of, are we gonna stand around and chat all night or do you have something useful for me?"

While demons and vampires usually loved a good war in the human world, seeing opportunities everywhere for slaughter and mayhem, this one was proving to be a bother. It wasn't much safer for their kind than for humans, which made someone like Mads, with his ear to the ground, a handy ally. Spike had stumbled across him shortly after coming to Madrid, hearing that he was the one to ask for information about the recent attacks he'd endured.

Mads waved a hand dismissively as he finished his cigarette, throwing the butt on the ground and stamping on it while he adjusted his beloved fedora. Spike couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"What?" Mads asked, arms outstretched. Spike merely glanced up at the hat and back to Mads. "It's fashionable, kamerat, or I should say, amigo," Mads said, shoving Spike lightly on the shoulder. "This is true style. But you stick with your harsh, terror inspiring uniform, if it makes you feel like more of a vampire."

Spike growled and Mads winked at him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose fitting suit and rocking back on his heels. Mads looked to be in his late thirties, was tall and thin and smoked like a chimney. He had a few bad habits, such as spitting when he thought no one was looking, but they did little to detract from his natural charisma. Habits left over from his human days, no doubt, when he'd spent most of his time drunk off his ass. He'd told Spike he'd been poor, useless and lonely—pathetic, before his turning. Vampirism did some people some good, it seemed.

The fedora hid what Spike knew to be scruffy looking brown hair, keeping the fringe that fell to Mads' eyes out of his face. That would have been easy to take care of, if Mads had been bothered enough to cut it. Spike had chopped off his long locks decades ago. As Mads said, he stuck to a harsher, more threatening appearance; his now jet black hair gelled back against his head, hiding his natural curls. No need to waste energy intimidating people when your look could do it for you.

"We'd better go. Don't want to be late for the party," Mads said.

He checked his watch and Spike frowned. As far as he knew, Mads had found something out that might interest Spike. He didn't think they had anywhere special to be.

"What party?"

"You didn't hear? A very influential demon in the city is having a party tonight. All the most important people will be there, and I have an invite," Mads winked at Spike again, who scowled.

"I came here for information not some night on the town."

"Slapp av, kamerat. Relax, my friend. I didn't get where I am by ignoring serious problems just to party."

"It got you dead, didn't it?"

"And I wouldn't change it for the world. Being a vampire is glorious. I'm immortal now."

"Until someone sticks a pencil through your chest, yeah, you're real immortal."

"You take everything too seriously. The point I'm making is that you hear things by rubbing shoulders with others. You are not the only one to have been attacked by Nazis, Spike. Some have lost friends in these ambushes. I just so happen to know that the demon throwing this party is one such victim. He lost his brother to them a few weeks ago," Mads said, walking off and leaving Spike to follow.

"He's throwing a party after his brother disappeared? I can see how much he cares," Spike scoffed, following after the slightly taller vampire, annoyed that Mads was dragging him along to this thing.

"The meeting is to find allies who want to put a stop to this as much as you do. Strength in numbers as it were."

"You said party not meeting. Which is it? And I told you about the friend thing. I don't play well with others, so working together with a bunch of—"

"It's…litt av begge, a bit of both. No sense wasting an opportunity for a good bloodbath, especially during such trying times. I heard something about testpersonene, 'test subjects'."

"What?"

Mads turned to look at Spike over his shoulder, shrugging his shoulders as he led him onwards.

"I don't know the details, but a vamp who speaks German and had a narrow escape is positive he heard the term used. It doesn't sound good, especially since they seem to be referring to vampires."

Test subjects. Spike didn't like the sound of that one bit. Not bothering to learn languages anymore was actually proving to be a hassle for once, as Spike had no clue what the officers had been yelling when they attacked him. He understood when they were pleading for their lives just fine though. He adjusted the sleeve of his coat and brushed off a tiny bit of dirt. Spike really did like the black leather.

"It's just up ahead," Mads said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the pair.

Spike peered around the vamp but didn't see any grand looking building like he expected. It just looked like a regular house. Hardly befitting a social bloodbath. That didn't seem to concern Mads, who just rubbed his hands together, fiddled with his fedora and turned to grin widely at Spike.

"Let the free virgin blood party commence!"

Spike frowned and watched as Mads spun to the door. "Free virgin blood—Mads!"

The other vamp had already entered the building and Spike rushed in after him, grabbing his shoulder as they both stumbled into a darkened room that was suddenly flooded with bright light. Both vampires held up their hands against the dazzling beams and stepped back.

Strong arms wrapped around Spike's, and he felt himself get shoved forward. Instinctively, he reared back but they were prepared for it and avoided his attempts to shake them off, instead getting a tighter grip and tossing a sack over his head that shut out the blinding light. He felt a cord tighten around his throat as he was pulled to the floor, heavy weight piling on top of him as his attackers wrestled to pin his hands behind his back.

Around him, he heard several German voices issuing orders and a struggle. There was a thud as something hit the floor next to him. Mads. Had to be.

"Machen sie es enger! Halten Sie sie zuruckhaltend!"

Spike struggled harder but it was no good, something heavy and metal was wrapped around his wrists and legs and he couldn't move. He heard something that sounded an awful lot like a curse and the struggle next to him grew in intensity until the familiar sound of a vampire's roar ripped through the room, closely followed by gunshots. There was a scream and several feet ran off out of the room. More yelling.

"Lass ihn! Wir haben das, was wir wollen. William der Blutige."

"Oh bollocks," Spike muttered, wincing as the cord around his neck cut into his throat. He groaned when he received a kick to the ribs, he assumed, for talking.

There were more orders given he didn't understand and he felt himself being lifted and tossed into some cramped space before everything went completely dark and his mind started to blank.

_No. Don't pass out…now._

* * *

><p>Rage. It had been a while since he'd felt anger like this, but as he lay there in the dark, confined and restrained, barely able to hear anything beyond a constant droning hum in the background, Spike's anger grew into furious rage against his captors. Not only had they targeted him for some reason for some plan involving vampires that couldn't be at all good, but they'd also left him locked in a dark, tiny box to starve while they transported him who knew where.<p>

So yeah. Rage. He was hungry, he was trapped, and he couldn't do a sodding thing about it while his hands were still chained beneath him and his feet were bound. He hadn't been confined like this since…a time he didn't want to think about, least of all now. Either they'd drugged him or knocked him out; he couldn't remember which, but he had a memory of drifting in and out of consciousness several times during the journey. Only now had he regained his senses fully.

He strained against his bonds but they weren't giving. Bastards knew what they were doing, and not having room to move didn't help any. He tugged again at whatever was locked around his wrists and felt the cord at his neck tighten. He stopped pulling at his restraints instantly. Crafty buggers. He wondered if putting too much effort into breaking loose would decapitate him. No. More likely he'd just break his neck or crush his windpipe, and strangling, while ineffective as a method of killing him, would still be a torturous sensation.

He blinked in the darkness, feeling his eyelids brush the canvas of the sack still over his head. It smelled musty and he growled as the scent only pissed him off more. He couldn't stay like this much longer. His stomach growled next and he couldn't help flexing his fists and tugging at his bonds again, regardless of the tightening cord. He was not going to slip now, not after all these years; he wouldn't be haunted again. He would not lose control because of some interfering, war hungry, world domination seeking prats. And human ones no less.

Feeling the cord biting into his skin through the scratchy material of the sack, Spike gritted his teeth and tried to move his hands apart, his elbows knocking against the sides of whatever box he was trapped in. He struggled for a while, twisting his wrists this way and that but to no avail. Eventually he had to stop and ease the pressure on his throat. He growled again and kicked at his prison, not getting far as his knees banged against the surface almost immediately and his feet barely moved, but he'd made some noise at least. Maybe he could lure someone over to check on him…not that he could do much yet.

It took him a second to trace the sudden smell of blood. His wrists stung and he realized that he'd rubbed the skin on his wrists raw. He shifted them a bit. Either he was so desperate that he was imagining it, or they felt looser. Maybe he could slip the cuffs, or chains, whatever it was binding him, if he kept trying?

It took longer than he would have liked, but finally he managed to get one hand free. Unfortunately, he couldn't move enough to untangle himself any further, but he did squeeze his arm up and start banging against the surface of the box, which, he discovered, must be made from metal.

Once he started making noise he didn't let up. His anger and hunger dulled his senses to anything other than the claustrophobia of the box and his single desire to get out. He could feel the metal denting and it urged him on. Either someone would come to check on him or he'd break his way out. Either way, he _would_ be free.

He almost didn't notice when the lid of whatever metal crate he'd been locked in was opened as he continued to slam his fist upwards until it connected with something softer and he heard a shout. He swung his arm out and grabbed hold of the nearest object, someone's jacket and pulled. They were dragged down while Spike pulled himself up into a sitting position, wasting no time in freeing his other hand. He grabbed for the cord at his throat, frantically tugging at it until it came loose and he could tear the sack of his head. He blinked in the sudden light and snarled.

The man he'd grabbed hold of fell backwards, there was yelling and a gunshot. Spike felt his chest explode in pain as the bullet tore through him and he roared. Freeing his feet lightening quick, he lunged for the first body in sight. He tore into the man's neck and drained him in a few rapid pulls, tossing the carcass aside and moving onto the next just as quickly. _They would all pay._

He grabbed a third man and flung him against the wall, where the man's skull caved in upon hitting a protruding lever amongst odd looking machinery. Spike barely took it in. The others were fleeing. He was shot again and went for the one responsible, tackling him to the ground and wrestling the gun from his grip, sending it flying, then tore into the bloke's throat, barely drinking this time, more intent on killing alone. He didn't know what they wanted with him or why, but their plans would fail. He'd make sure of it.

Noise behind him drew his attention; a faint banging amongst the screams and shouts. He looked up, wiping the blood from his face and walked over to where he discovered several more metal crates, identical to the one he'd been trapped in. He wasn't the only prisoner. His rage and the fresh blood coursing through him allowed him to snap the lock off easily and swing the crate open. A vampire lay inside, bound the same way he had been. Spike removed the cord from the vamp's neck and grabbed its coat, hauling the creature up and freeing its hands. Spike took a step back after removing the canvas sack, unprepared for the ugliness of what was clearly a very old, if not ancient, vampire.

The thing snarled and clawed at the air, hissing at Spike until it recognized him for one of its kind and turned its attention to the box it was sitting in, looking confused. When it saw the dead bodies strewn across the floor, it grinned and rubbed its clawed hands together gleefully. Spike glanced to his left and saw a couple more crates, probably containing more vampires.

"Free the others and let's make sure these bastards don't even get the chance to think twice next time," Spike snarled, gesturing to the crates. Not waiting to see if the vamp understood him or not, he spun to go in search of his quarry.

They were in a submarine, he realized, finally taking notice of his surroundings and the instruments everywhere. A bloody submarine of all places. He inhaled and caught the tantalizing smell in the air, coming from the room behind him and ahead, to where some of the men must have been injured. He grinned at the accuracy of his previous statement. It would be a very bloody submarine by the time he was through.

They really weren't as clever as he'd given them credit for. They were gathered just up ahead, not that they really had anywhere to run to in a tin can beneath the ocean. Still, he'd expected them to at least watch their backs. It was as if they were completely unprepared for the prospect of their cargo getting loose. Overconfident gits.

A large, bald man was yelling orders. He was the leader then. Spike grabbed him and hauled him backwards, biting down hard. He was already full. The man beat at Spike's chest, struggling to break free. Spike dropped him, intending to let him just bleed out. The man grabbed for his neck and crawled backwards where one of his men was waiting for him.

"Captain?! Somebody help me! Get in here!"

The other man, more of a boy really (he was young) dragged his so called Captain backwards, trying to get away from Spike, but he was having none of it. They'd interfered with his world, and their Captain was responsible. Besides, he was already as good as dead.

"Oh, God. Help me!"

Fat chance of that. Spike grabbed the Captain's legs and pulled him away from the man who fell on one of his shipmates. Spike dragged the screaming Captain back to the previous compartment, where he took hold of the man's neck and twisted, until he heard the spine snap and blood spurted across the room from the open neck wound.

"Captain?!"

Spike looked up just in time to catch the terrified look on the crewman's face before he vanished through the doorway, slamming the door closed behind him, the sound of it being sealed shut echoing through the enclosed space. Spike picked bits of skin out of his teeth and dropped his vamp face. Around him he heard more screams, the vampires he'd left behind obviously enjoying their share of revenge.

It was only then, coming down from his high and finally pausing to think clearly that Spike recalled the men speaking English. He took a closer look at the bodies strewn around him, in particular their uniforms.

"Son of a—" Spike wiped a hand down his face, wearily. Americans.

* * *

><p>The other vampires were certainly having fun. By the time Spike got back to them, all the humans who hadn't made it inside the compartment up front with the others were dead. They hadn't gone quietly either. As he'd walked back through the cramped space of the sub, screams of agony had echoed from a compartment further back. From the racket he was making, Spike could tell that the poor sod's death had been drawn out and painful, before everything fell abruptly quiet.<p>

Spike found a cloth to clean his face with, the grubby square of fabric coming away red, before he went to introduce himself to his new friends. Like it or not he was stuck with them until they got out of the sub.

A large body blocked the door just as Spike was passing through it, and he had to pause and look up to see the vamp's face; the pointed beard drew his attention. He was a big fellow all right, but no one Spike recognized.

"You mind?" Spike asked, resting an arm on his knee as he stood half in and half out of the open doorway.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the one responsible for getting you lot out of your crates, mate," Spike said. "Not that I have the first clue how they squeezed you into this pipe. Now, how's about you let me in?"

The vamp sneered and brought a large axe into view, slapping the flat edge of it across one meaty palm. It clashed with his elaborate outfit that looked like some bizarre costume. The vamp thumped his chest like the great ape he resembled when he spoke.

"I am Nostroyev! Scourge of Siberia and Butcher of Alexander Palace."

A Russian vampire. Spike cocked his head and nodded.

"Uh huh. Well, Butcher, are you gonna move out of my way or what?"

"It is common courtesy to introduce oneself," the vamp slapped a hand down on Spike's shoulder, the weight of it knocking Spike off balance slightly, "especially when the person you're talking to has told you who they are."

"I never asked for your name. I'm not in the habit of getting acquainted with people I don't plan to be around for very long. Unfortunately we're stuck together for a little while, but I don't see why that should make us friends. Do you?"

Nostroyev frowned and Spike rolled his eyes.

"Oh for pity's sake. It's Spi—"

"Where are the rest of the vermin?" a raspy voice hissed from inside the compartment. "I wish to maul more. The Prince of Lies demands the blood sacrifice he was promised."

Notroyev moved aside enough for Spike to see the ancient vampire he'd freed first standing there, rubbing his long, talon like nails together. He really was a hideous sight, older than Batface apparently, and more deserving of the nickname. It seemed he preferred to go by 'Prince of Lies' however.

"They've run off up ahead. We should go take care of them, make them pay for locking us up like filthy animals," came another voice.

A younger looking vamp stepped into view, though Spike could sense the power coming from him. It seemed Spike was the youngest vampire in the group then. Wonderful. So not only would he have to deal with over eager vampires intent purely on killing, but he had to deal with vamps that were older, more than likely stronger because of their age, and who would be unwilling to listen to him any more than they would a fledge. Perfect.

The vamp was dressed all in black, much like the Prince of Lies, but in more casual attire. His hair was short, brown and spiked up at the front, and there was something familiar about him, the way he acted and the way he moved, though Spike was positive he'd never met him before in his life.

"And you. I didn't catch your name yet either? Nostroyev said to the vamp, turning away from Spike enough to allow him to finally slip through the door. What was it with this guy and names?

"Not that it matters to you," the vamp said, fixing his collar, "but my name's Penn."

"Penn. I don't recall ever hearing your name," Nostroyev said, while Spike frowned, puzzled. Why did it sound familiar to him? He was positive he'd never met the vamp before but his name triggered some sort of memory.

"Well I don't remember ever hearing of you either," Penn retorted, and glanced off to the right. "Have you?"

"Not that I can recall. Scourge of Siberia? Can't imagine too many people cared about a wasteland like that."

Spike froze. No. It couldn't be.

A fourth vamp stepped into view from the shadows and patted Penn on the back while he stared up at Nostroyev, who was fuming at the slight against him. The Prince of Lies just looked on, seeming amused. Spike couldn't take his eyes off the vamp who'd just appeared.

It bloody was.

"Angelus."

His grandsire frowned and turned to face him. He looked Spike up and down until a grin spread across his face and he actually laughed out loud, much to the confusion of the others.

"Oh, this is brilliant," Angelus said, shoving Penn away and holding his arms out to Spike. "Of all the faces I never expected to see again. Spike."

Angelus took a step forward and pretended to pout.

"What? Aren't you going to tell me you're glad to see me?"


	24. Reunion

_Somewhere in the Atlantic 1943_

_March…_

Several responses ran through Spike's head at his grandsire's question (none of them pleasant), but he settled for a tight lipped nod of acknowledgement as he looked the older vampire up and down. He hadn't changed much aside from a haircut and new clothes, all black of course. His grandsire lowered his head and gave Spike a knowing smirk, folding his arms and returning the up and down look.

"You're a Nazi?"

Spike frowned before he realized the swastika had caught Angelus' eye, and shook his head.

"No, I just ate one. What are you doing here?"

Angelus chuckled and looked around the tiny compartment.

"Same thing as you, obviously. We were captured. I take it you're the one responsible for getting us out then?"

"Yeah." Spike noticed the other vampires all staring at them, watching the conversation with interest. "If I'd known you were along for the ride I would have left you locked up."

Angelus pressed a hand to his chest, right where his un-beating heart lay.

"Spike. You wound me. After all the time we spent together? We're family."

"You are?" Penn asked, stepping forward and giving Angelus an annoyed look.

"Depends on your definition of family, doesn't it?" Spike answered, ignoring what he suspected was his grandsire's latest travelling companion. "Where's grandma?"

"Ran off to her precious Master." A dark look passed over Angelus' face but he brushed it off quickly, cocky smirk falling back into place. "He got himself into a bit of a predicament."

"This is all very interesting to you I'm sure," Nostroyev interrupted, "but I for one would rather focus on how soon we can finish off the cowards hiding from us."

"Can't you see we're having a reunion here?" Angelus turned to Nostroyev. "It's not like you have anywhere important to be… what was your name again?"

Typical. Spike heaved a sigh at his grandsire's obvious goading of the brute. As if the prospect of getting out of here in one piece hadn't been difficult enough before finding out who else was on board.

"I am Nostroyev." The large vampire stepped up to Angelus until he was only a foot away, slapping the axe in his hand the entire time. "Scourge of Siberia. I was Rasputin's lover. You dare disrespect me, Angelus?"

The first of many pissing contests to come, no doubt. Spike backed up to lean against a wall and observe the showdown. If he remembered Angelus right, the vamp wouldn't allow an opportunity to assert his authority pass by. Nostroyev was about to learn that the hard way.

"Scourge of Europe trumps you." Angelus grabbed the axe out of Nostroyev's hands and rammed the handle into his heart, turning the larger vamp to dust in seconds.

The others all looked on, The Prince of Lies cocking his head in mild curiosity while Penn started grinning like an idiot. Angelus spun the axe in the air once and caught it before tossing it off to the side.

"He was taking up too much room for such cramped quarters."

Spike rolled his eyes while Penn started to laugh.

"What do you say we go hunt down the rest of the filth and have a little more fun?" the eager vamp said, practically bouncing in place. The Prince of Lies wheezed his approval, thin lips curling up into a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"No."

They all turned to stare at Spike who kicked off the wall to stand at full height in front of them.

"What was that?" Angelus asked, taking two steps towards Spike, not quite threatening… yet.

"We shouldn't kill them. Not right now anyway."

Now came the hard part. Spike had to play this right so he didn't end up like Notroyev. He had a little more leeway as far as his grandsire was concerned considering their history, but it wouldn't count for much if he pushed his luck. Annoyingly, he was going to have to be civil for a while.

"And why not? Spike? Enlighten me on why we should spare the men who locked us in here like animals."

"Because of where we are, Gramps. Look around. We're in a bit of a tight spot right now."

Angelus glanced around the tiny interior and seemed to pause to listen.

"A submarine. Not riding on the surface either."

"No, we're not."

Angelus sighed and Spike was relieved that at least so far things were going well. The Prince of Lies hunched over a little more and cocked his head like a dog trying to listen extra hard for something.

"We're underwater?" he asked in a nasal voice. He hissed and scrunched his face up in distaste. Angelus and Spike gave him baffled expressions before choosing to ignore the old geezer.

"Fine, we're underwater. I don't see why that means they should live."

"Well, for starters, they aren't the ones responsible for locking us up. Not all of them anyway. Check their uniforms. Some of them are Americans."

Angelus frowned as he absorbed the information.

"They captured the sub." He laughed and started to pace as he worked it out. "They took the sub to aid in the war and it just so happens to be the one we're being transported on. That's how you got out." He pointed to Spike. "They had no clue what was in those crates. You started making a ruckus, broke free, and the slaughter began. They have terrible luck."

"Fact is, unless you've joined the navy sometime in the past forty odd years, we're stuck down here. Now we could swim, but who knows how far we are from land or how far down we are? Personally, I don't fancy it."

"The Prince of Lies does not swim," the raspy voice behind them added.

"You think they're just going to oblige us and steer us home?" Penn interrupted them, striding up next to Angelus and giving Spike a glare. "I don't think they're going to feel quite so charitable."

"In case you've forgotten, we're vampires." Spike gave the new boy a withering glance, wondering what the hell he saw in Angelus that had him trailing after the git like an obedient puppy. "Vamps that killed their crew no less. Not to mention their Captain."

Angelus raised an eyebrow at that as Spike carried on.

"Now even without our obvious advantages and means of threatening them into complying, they have another incentive. Air. _They_ need it to breathe. We can do without. How long do you suppose they can last down here before they need to surface? Sooner or later, they're going to want to take control again. It'll be easier for everyone if we let them do just that, but keep them in line of course."

"Spike has a point."

Penn stared at Angelus in disbelief.

"You can't seriously be agreeing to spare those—"

"You should know me well enough to tell when I'm joking, Penn." Angelus gave the vamp a glare. "You know I don't pass up a free meal but we are in a bit of a pickle right now. We allow them to take us closer to shore, surface, then kill them. Got it? Until then, we spare only who they need to operate this tub and wait to do the rest."

That bought some time, but Spike knew he'd have another battle on his hands later if he wanted to avoid a bloodbath with the survivors. He could, of course, just leave them to it. But he'd let his rage take over and slaughtered people who were, more or less, innocent. They'd had no clue what was on board and hadn't been part of his capture, yet they'd paid for it with their lives all the same. Spike grudgingly acknowledged that he owed them.

At least Angelus agreed with him for now, which was a surprise in itself, but Spike had to admit, however bitterly, that his grandsire wasn't nearly as dumb as he looked. Penn could be a problem; the hate in his eyes every time he shot a glare in Spike's direction made that crystal clear. However, he seemed to fall in line when Angelus bossed him around, so hopefully he wouldn't cause too much trouble.

As for the old geezer… he seemed willing enough to go along with their plans for now. Generally, he seemed more curious than irritated by the situation, and at least he wasn't pulling rank on them.

"Right then, I'll go free the little sardines." Spike started to head for the door when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder and stopped him.

"Now hang on, Spike. I'm not going to let you have all the fun, and we both know I'm a master of threatening people. Besides, we have lots to catch up on."

Spike grimaced and tapped his tongue against his teeth in irritation. He shrugged Angelus' hand off his shoulder, leading the way forward. Penn attempted to follow him but was held back.

"You stay here. Look around and see if you can find anything interesting. Keep the Prince there company."

"But—"

"Penn. Spike and I need to discuss old times. It wouldn't interest you."

Spike turned and couldn't help but smirk at the glower the other vamp was giving him. He remembered the warning tone now clear in Angelus' voice; the one that had usually been directed at him. Penn snarled but soon looked away, pretending to be unfazed.

"You're right. It wouldn't interest me. I just can't believe you'd trust Junior with keeping them in line."

It was Spike's turn to growl as Penn grinned back at him. Angelus grabbed Spike's coat and pulled him forward.

"Come on. You two children can measure up later, all right?"

Spike yanked free of his grandsire's grip and walked on by himself, quickly putting space between them and the other vampires. When they got to the compartment leading to where the men were trapped, he stopped and faced Angelus.

"Who's the pillock, and what's his bloody problem?"

Angelus found a place to sit and relaxed, looking at Spike with some amusement as he clasped his hands in front of him.

"Ah yes, Penn. He's family from long ago. I hadn't seen him in years, but we bumped into each other recently and decided to travel together for a while. Darla's gone, and I rather enjoy a bit of male company for a change."

Spike ignored the suggestive look Angelus was giving him. His grandsire was clearly enjoying every minute of this little adventure now he had a chance to taunt the younger vamp again. Instead, Spike struggled to pinpoint what it was about the name that struck a chord with him, when finally he remembered.

"He's the one. That vamp you and Darla turned back before you even knew Dru. Your protégé."

Penn had been mentioned only once that Spike could remember. A somewhat offhand comment Angelus had made about him. It had stuck in Spike's memory only because Angelus had been comparing them as his pupils. Spike was found wanting of course, which suited him just fine.

"Still as attentive as ever. He's picked up quite a few of my tricks. It's how we ran into each other, actually. He's been perfecting my technique. He wanted to know what I'd been up to. I decided to bring him along. Isolation isn't good for anyone. Is it, Spike?"

"No. Don't suppose it is."

"So, pray tell. Who have you been spending your time with these last decades, hmm?"

"No one in particular. I drift."

Angelus was fishing, and Spike was damned if he was going to share. He knew better than to think the sod cared about him beyond his own interests. It was bad enough he'd seen Spike suffer after Dru dusted without revealing to the great forehead any more of what he'd been going through.

"Drift. Well, we've all been there I suppose. Did a little of it myself when Darla ran off. I had no interest in helping Batface, least of all after how we last parted ways. I honestly didn't think I'd run into you again, Spike. Figured you'd do your best to keep our paths from crossing… if you weren't already dead."

"Would have. Didn't have a choice in the matter."

Angelus grinned and Spike sighed, glancing at the door beyond which the men were no doubt cowering. Knowing Angelus would keep pushing, Spike tried to divert his attention to a different topic.

"So, what trouble is Batface in anyway?"

Angelus tapped his fingers against the instruments next to him and glanced at the roof as he answered.

"Got himself stuck underground after an earthquake. He was trying to open up a Hellmouth somewhere in California. He failed."

Spike raised an eyebrow at that and couldn't help a smile. Angelus watched him, his own mouth curled in amusement until soon they were both chuckling as they imagined the Master on his grand quest to raise Hell on Earth, only to get buried in the process. Spike snickered and shook his head.

"Serves him right. And Darla's down in the dirt with him then?"

Angelus nodded and shrugged.

"Well, didn't think she'd ever get tired of travelling to stew in a hole."

"She's loyal. Don't understand it to be honest, but she'll overlook a lot to do as he asks."

"But you won't do the same for her?"

"I'm not some pet on a leash." Angelus scowled and stood again, moving across the room to block the open door behind him. "I don't need to sit at the feet of the one who made me and answer their every beck and call. Maybe it makes me the odd one out after all. Even you cowed to Dru's whims."

Spike tensed and slipped his mask back on, the one that hid his emotions. Angelus saw the change and seemed to study Spike more intently.

"Did you grieve, Spike? Something changed in you, I know that much. Dragged your limp arse out of there and saved your hide from the Master's boys, but did I get any thanks? No. Instead you lay there like a lump for days until you up and disappeared without so much as a by your leave."

"I had no reason to stay."

"You stuck around for her and her alone then? To tell the truth, I'm not surprised. But we were all you had left in the world and you just up and vanished. I was sure you'd have dusted. You weren't—right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know she did something, Spike. I saw you when you had those nightmares and she was the only one to calm you. I saw how she eased your mind, removed any trace of hesitation or refusal with one of her looks. She had you in thrall!"

"What of it?!"

Spike lost his cool. He didn't have any answers for Angelus about what Dru had done, and he wasn't going to share one minute of his life between the time he'd cut them loose and now with the older vampire.

"What does it matter to you? She died. I lived on. Yeah, I nearly dusted when I lost her, but I pulled through, and I'm still here. We're not friends. We're not 'family', not really… so back off. All I want is to get off this bloody submarine and go my own way, all right? Now can we get cracking on that or do you want to keep pushing for some pointless heart-to-heart? Neither one of 'em beats, and they sure as hell don't bleed for the other one."

Angelus stared at Spike who realized that at some point, he'd fisted his hands at his sides and was shaking ever so slightly. With some effort, he calmed himself and unclenched his fists, turning away from the older vamp to face the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed his temper. A few seconds passed before Angelus broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Best get that door open before the other two come looking for us. Can't spend eternity down here now can we?"

The thought of the two of them locked in a metal tube somewhere deep beneath the ocean for eternity was almost funny. As if they'd manage even five minutes.

"I'd swim for it first."

"Not if I beat you to it."

"Pillock."

"Runt."

Instead of retorting with another insult, Spike focused on the task at hand. They could have thrown jibes at each other all day otherwise.

Spike slammed a fist against the door in front of him, the sound of it reverberating through the room. That would get the crew's attention fairly quickly. It would take more than that to convince them to open up though. He was no expert in Morse code by any means but he knew enough to rap out a simple S.O.S.

He repeated the rhythm a few times before backing away to a far corner. He shared a glance with Angelus who took up a position closer to the door. At least one of them had seen Spike, not his human face, but there was a good chance he'd be recognized all the same. They didn't want the men within slamming the door before they could persuade them otherwise.

It took a while. Angelus and Spike waited. More than likely they were arguing about whether or not it was wise to open the door. It wasn't really, but they didn't have much choice. It was doubtful they'd believe the S.O.S. was sincere, but you never knew. Either way, it was risk facing the monsters or wait to suffocate to death.

When the door eventually did open, it was the same crewmember standing there that had tried to save his Captain. He stared straight at Angelus, a gun raised and pointing at the vampire's chest.

"Who are you? Are you one of those things?"

"Easy, kid. I'm not here to hurt you."

"Yeah, you're not interested in hurting anybody. All the dead bodies in here say differently."

_Not all the dead bodies,_ Spike thought, watching the boy carefully. His hand was steady despite the fear Spike sensed coming from him. Angelus grinned, holding his hands out in an attempt to calm the crew down.

"Slight misunderstanding. Last we were aware, this was a German sub. You caught us at a bad time."

"A bad time." The man's eyes moved glanced from the blood on the walls to the dead bodies on the floor again. "That's one hell of a way of putting it."

"What's done is done, but it doesn't change our current situation. You boys need air, and we want out of here. Now, what do you say we work together? You can take this thing home like you planned, and we'll leave, no more harm done."

"Why should we help you? You're monsters. I'm supposed to believe… whatever the hell you are?" The gun jerked a little in his hand as he started to lose his cool, the tension finally getting to him.

Angelus dropped his gaze to the weapon. His eyes flicked towards Spike who was already moving. By the time the kid, noticed, Spike had pulled him forward into the room, one hand around his throat warningly, while the other pinned the hand with the gun. Spike squeezed the bloke's wrist until he was forced to drop the weapon. The rest of the crew barely had time to react, but when they did more guns were drawn and pointing at the vampires.

"I wouldn't do that," Angelus warned them, stooping to pick up the discarded weapon and squeeze the barrel, bending the metal and making it useless before tossing it down again. "Spike has a firm hold on who I'm assuming is in command now your Captain is gone. Well, he _was_ in command at least. Now, we won't kill him, not if you comply with our wishes. I meant everything I said. You get this thing running, drop us off on your way home and you all get to live. So, do we have an agreement or do I have to make myself clearer?"

"How do we know—" The kid Spike was holding tried to speak again but started coughing and choking. Spike gave another warning squeeze to his throat before loosening his grip and allowing the guy to talk. "How do we know you won't just kill us anyway, once you don't need us anymore?"

Angelus held a finger up to indicate the boy had made a fair point.

"Ah, see that's where you're confused. Fact is we don't need you, not really. Unlike you, we could swim out of here if we had to, but it's not a pleasant prospect. So you see, we could kill every last one of you right now, and it wouldn't put us at risk. We'd just prefer to make our journey less of a hassle. You're lucky we're even giving you this chance to begin with."

The men seemed to be debating the truth of Angelus' words, glancing back and forth to one another and giving confused and frightened looks to the one Spike was still restraining.

"What's it going to be, mate?" Spike asked the kid, his voice low but not threatening.

"I'm not your mate." He struggled for a minute before finally taking a deep breath and relaxing, his eyes fixed on his men. "Fine. Promise to let us live and we'll help you." He directed his words to Angelus who dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"You have my word. Now tell your men to put their guns down."

"Lower your weapons."

They hesitated, and he repeated the order. Finally, the men grudgingly did as asked. The older vamp turned his gaze to Spike again. "Let him go."

Spike released the boy, who jerked away from him, spinning to face Spike and rubbing at his throat with one hand. He frowned and dropped his eyes to Spike's clothes before they rose to his face again.

"You."

Spike tilted his head and waited for the outburst he knew was coming.

"You killed the Captain!"

"Yeah, I did. One of the ones who got between me and the Krauts that had me locked in a crate. It's done. You wanna make an issue of it and go back on the deal or are you gonna worry about the men still alive?"

"What are you?"

"A vampire. Satisfied?"

The kid was shaking with anger but he kept his cool. Spike admired his restraint. No matter what grudge he bore against them, it seemed like the lives of his crew were worth more to him than foolhardy revenge. Good. That should keep things reasonably smooth until the time came for the vamps to disembark.

"Not the word I'd use."

Spike grinned at that. Before any more trouble could start, Angelus intervened.

"I'm sure you have a lot of work to get to. Spike and I have to go inform the others of our arrangement."

"Fine. Spinelli," the kid looked to one of his men, "take Heinrich up to the galley. Then do a full systems check. You got five minutes. Start with the batteries. I want juice as soon as possible."

The crewman, Spinelli, nodded and vanished back into the compartment they'd gathered in before leading out a German prisoner. Spike and Angelus glared at the Nazi, who stumbled over his feet when he saw them standing there, eyes trained on him.

"Was machst du? Sie warden uns töten. Sie wissen nicht, was Sie zu tun haben. Diese Monster—"

"Yeah, yeah, they're monsters, we figured that much out. Move it," Spinelli said, pushing the German forward against his protests. Angelus and Spike watched them go.

"O'Shea… you're at the helm—"

"Not to interrupt you, but it'd be nice if we knew what to call you, Commander," Angelus interrupted, smirking at the title he'd given the kid. He was rewarded with a stony stare before he got an answer.

"Lawson."

"Well, Lawson. I can see you're going to be very busy for the next few hours. Organize your men, get the engine working, and we'll keep an eye on proceedings. If you need anything, let us know. We're not against giving you a hand considering you're probably short of them."

The vampire's eyes drifted to the bodies again and he left Lawson with a teasing smile before gesturing for Spike to lead the way back to the others. Spike scoffed and pushed his way past the older vampire. He had little patience for his grandsire's taunting of the people they were relying on to get them to shore.

"Come on you old git," Spike said. "Best make sure your boy's not throwing a tantrum over being ignored."


End file.
